


Vaka

by Koukouvayia



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Apocalypse, Depression, Dissociation, Existentialism, F/F, Found Family, Heavy pining, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury, M/M, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, general teenage irresponsibility, kids without supervision, lea still has a smoking problem in this good year of 2018, lesbian guilt, roxas cries, run for your life it's kairi's knife, the front bottoms sometimes and other miscellaneous punk rock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-06 16:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 64,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13415466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koukouvayia/pseuds/Koukouvayia
Summary: Sora and company find themselves alone in the aftermath of a sweeping plague and are faced with the reality of the fact that life still goes on. Maybe the universe is uncaring and chaotic; maybe Camus was right about that one thing. But no one is ever as alone in it as they think they are. And even if all else fails, there's still punk rock.





	1. The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, this is essentially the first fic I've published since I was thirteen. I didn't actually expect to ever get farther than the first chapter, and it took till I'd finished almost seven chapters to summon the guts to actually start posting. :^))) 
> 
> This is more about teenagers than it is about the end of the world. 
> 
>  [EDIT] I didn't plan on like, specifying the exact relationships between these characters because I don't really care about telling people how to interpret my writing, but despite doing my best to make this abundantly clear, some feedback has been making me anxious about this lately so I want to at least say this: there's not any Ak*r*ku in this fic. Axel/Lea is a Literal Adult in canon, I really don't care to ship him with kids. Thanks.
> 
> Feel free to hmu at my personal blog, koukoupepia.tumblr.com, if you've got questions or you just wanna talk about how much you also love music where they sing bad and say "fuck" a lot.
> 
> Special thanks to Mechanipede on Tumblr for beta-ing!!

It must have been a Monday when the world ended. Or, _began_ to end--because as quickly as it happened, it still seemed to take its sweet time. Of course it couldn’t have gone out with a flash or a bang; that would’ve been too merciful, and the universe just didn’t care. Whether or not it all really started on a Monday, that’s the way he remembered it. Because in all honesty, there could never be another day of the week that was as fitting for the apocalypse as a Monday.

And now, as he stood ankle-deep in the creek, Sora thought to himself, _How appropriate, for the world to end on a Monday._

Something in the earth had crept up from beneath. Classrooms were full of students with sick teachers, and then dead teachers. Somehow, the students remained. And so did Sora, now standing in the creek, with no parents and no teachers. He had theories, but all that was on the news was static. Hemorrhagic fever, a consequence of decades of chemical exposure, or something new and unidentified--whatever it was, it didn’t matter now.

In the current moment, in one hand, he gripped his bow--a handmade gift, repaired so often that it was hardly the original anymore--while the other rested on his his backpack, which he used as a quiver.

Initially, he’d meant to set snares for the rabbits that lived in the creek, but he thought he’d caught sight of a deer ambling a short distance ahead and was determined to bring it back with him. Crouching behind the brush, he kept his eyes open for movement while he pondered the wood grain of the bow by brushing it gently with his thumb. He wasn’t ready to draw it just yet; he knew the creek was blocked by fallen trees beyond his hiding spot and was waiting for the deer to return the way it came. _Unless it decided to climb up the sides_ , which is something that Sora suddenly remembered that deer had the skill to do. Patience was not his strong suit and after a short while he began to debate heading home empty-handed, until--

A noise. He could hear it now, faintly above the burbling of the water there was the crunch of gravel under hooves. Any other creek would not offer such a sound, but it was a man-made creek diverted from its original course in the early 2000s and the crew had thrown all the extra gravel and concrete onto the creekbed. The deer was making its way back cautiously, pausing every other second to wiggle its ears and glance around. Sora could see it clearly now as it rounded the bend and into the open section of the creek that was free of shrubbery and low hanging branches. He silently blessed his plain brown hair for holding his camouflage and held his breath as he fetched an arrow from his quiver and began to draw it. Slowly. _Slowly._ His elbow was almost all the way back now, and the deer was still clearly in his view. He said a small prayer as he prepared to shoot,

The same moment the phone in his pocket began to buzz frantically. The deer leapt up and bolted, and the arrow whizzed through the brush and struck the ground. Sora watched with dismay as the deer scrambled vertically up the steep wall of the creek and out of his sight forever. Fine, he didn’t care much for venison anyway. He growled and uttered a few curses before answering the phone.

“Sora!” The voice on the other side said immediately. It was bright and cheery.

“Hi, Kairi,” he answered, trying to hide his exasperation, but his voice just came out sounding constipated.

“Where have you been? We need you back to help with dinner.” There was a static noise from the other side like the phone was being jostled, and a muffled second voice. Sora could hear Kairi hiss something to the second voice and put the phone back against her ear. 

“Uh, I’m in the creek. Thought I saw a deer.” He stood up and waded into the water to retrieve the wayward arrow, which was buried in the gravel and sticking up at an angle. He plucked it from the ground and returned it to his backpack after wiping the arrowhead clean with the edge of his jacket.

A month after the beginning of The End, fresh food stopped being readily available. The only way to obtain it was to hunt or harvest it yourself -- if you knew how. Otherwise you were stuck with things like vienna sausage and frozen peas. His friends mourned the absence of fresh meat and fantasized about past meals, now aware of just how much of a luxury they once had access to. When Sora spotted the deer, he thought he might be able to bring them back a treat. The logistics of butchering a whole deer could be figured out later; in the moment he had only wanted to offer them this.

Kairi made an enthusiastic squeaking noise. “Did you get it?” More muffled clamoring came from the second voice. Sora could tell she was putting her hand over the mouth of whoever was trying to speak over her.

“No,” He said. “Turned out it was just some branches that looked like a deer. So I sat there for fifteen minutes with my bow aimed at a tree like an idiot.” He feigned a chuckle. He decided that he’d spare her the truth for now, that she didn’t need a twinge of guilt piled on top of everything else she had on her plate.

“Where is that brother o’ mine?” The other voice finally broke through.

“He’s in the creek,” said Kairi’s muffled voice.

“I’m in the creek, Roxas,” said Sora. He kicked the water, creating a splashing sound to prove it. Roxas huffed, but he could hear the smile in his voice.

“Come back, you and Kairi are on dinner duty tonight and I’m hungry.” Another jostling noise.

“You heard the man,” Kairi giggled, her voice clear once again.

“I’ll be back in half an hour, I’m pretty far down the creek. I’ll see you soon.” Sora hung up and put the hell rectangle that had cost him dinner back in his pocket. He retrieved his shoes from the dry patch in the creek bed where he’d set them down while he’d waited for the deer and began to trudge home, his toes numb from the water and his skin bruised from the irregular shapes of the rocks beneath.

It wasn’t particularly late, but the mountains to the west were where the sun liked to hide from the world early at the end of the day, and in November it retreated behind the mountains even earlier. Sora shivered a little as the last bit of sunlight was drained out of the creek by the shadow of its looming walls. It reflected his mood.

It had been two months since The End, and everyone had been too busy to mourn. Sora had spent his life crafting an upbeat and cheerful persona. It came easy to him, but lately it had become harder to hold. It was only so easy to hide his anxiety, when three fourths of the population had disappeared overnight. He decided to keep himself from thinking about it at all. He did not think about his teachers. He did not think about his parents. And he definitely did not think about how his brother Roxas had begun clinging to him like a stubborn burr.

The current living situation was that, starving for company, his friends Kairi and Riku had moved into the house that used to be occupied by him and Roxas and their parents, but was now left feeling horribly empty in the wake of The End. Sora had Roxas, but Riku and Kairi were both only children.

 

The transition was less than comfortable. Sora always imagined that he’d live with his friends in their own apartment someday, maybe during college. Kairi and Riku were over so often that they might as well have already been part of Sora’s family, but he wanted the freedom of being his own authority figure. He’d known the both of them for so long that he could imagine life without them as well as he could imagine life without Roxas, who had only granted Sora three minutes of being an only-child before joining him in the waking world. It made his stomach twist knowing that what he had wished for had been granted under these circumstances, but the other two didn’t breathe a word about it.

Two weeks after The End, they showed up at his door with nothing but a change of clothes in their backpacks. Sora waved them through the doorway without a word and they sat themselves opposite each other on the living room couches, staring at the carpet with empty expressions. Sora didn’t sit by either of them; instead he sat between them on the floor. For an agonizingly long time, they sat together in silence until Roxas--who had just woken up and still in his pajamas with sleep crusted over his eyes--wandered all too noisily into the living room. He had stopped, staring at the three of them as well as he could through his gunk-covered eyelashes before breaking the silence with, “Do you guys want some persimmons?”

They’d brought their belongings over slowly. At first, just necessities—more clothes, blankets, personal amenities. Then, comfort items. Riku brought as many books as he could carry and Kairi brought her multitudes of crafting supplies; all of this they piled into and carted over in a rusty Radio Flyer wagon.

Roxas moved into Sora’s room and Kairi moved into Roxas’ room (Roxas threw a small tantrum about it), and Riku slept on the couch in the living room. They left the third bedroom--their parents’ bedroom--untouched. Slowly, the house became theirs again.

It was all a bad, awful, nightmare sleepover, Sora mused as he climbed up the wall of the creek. A large pile of sandbags offered him a stairway up and out. Dusk had fallen when he finally emerged from the creek bed, the last light of the sun just disappearing behind the mountains and leaving the sky a deep and even shade of blue, and the street lights began to flicker on ahead.

 

 

 

The porch light was on when he arrived. Kairi greeted him at the door by taking both his hands and leading him inside. Roxas was lounging at the table eating a lunchbox apple and leaning back with his feet propped up on an adjacent chair. Riku lay on the couch with an open book on his chest, clearly having intended to read it but fighting the urge to doze off. He turned his head slightly to peer at Sora from the corner of his eye.

“You were out for a long time.” It was not an accusatory statement, just an idle observation. Riku yawned and closed his book. His hair -- which he had not trimmed in a considerably long time -- fell across his face. He puffed at it a bit before brushing his hair out of his eyes with his hand instead.

“Uh, dinner!” Sora remembered suddenly, dropping his bow and backpack by the door and taking off his jacket. “Let me help!” He quickly removed his shoes with his heels without bothering to untie them and began to head for the bathroom before Kairi held him back gently by placing her hands lightly on his shoulders.

“I took care of it already, it’s in the oven right now. Roxas and I were hungry.” She was smiling, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye. Sora knew that look. She was thinking of a way to penalize him for missing dinner duty. He crossed his fingers and hoped that she didn’t make him lift something heavy.

“Ha ha, Kairi’s gonna punish you,” Riku mumbled from the couch. He was now laying on his stomach with his face buried in a pillow.

“I’m sorry, Kairi!” He brushed her hands off her shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you.” She hummed in acknowledgement and let him continue his journey to the bathroom.

The water was still on when he turned the tap to wash his hands, and he wondered idly when the day it would stop coming out of the faucet would come. He cupped his hands under the faucet and took a couple sips of water (out of some weird habit he formed and was never able to shake). When he raised his head to meet his reflection in the mirror, for a moment he just gazed into his own blank expression, the emptiness of which had become emphasised by the formation of deep purple bags that formed an ugly crease underneath his eyes when he squinted.  Then he scowled at himself.

When he returned to the kitchen, Kairi had set a out casserole in the center of the table without any other dishes to accompany it. Roxas was still at the table but this time sitting upright and with a plate in front of him,  announcing  that he was going to eat the entire thing by himself if they didn’t hurry up and sit down. Sora squeezed behind his chair and sat down next to him, while Kairi and Riku assumed their seats at the opposite side. The lights flickered a little and the four of them held their breath, but the lights remained on. They released their collective breaths and then dinner proceeded to happen as usual.

“--So, they had been planning on removing the observatory at Mt. Umunhum,” Kairi babbled through a mouth full of casserole. “I guess it’s never gonna happen now though.”

“That ugly thing?” Riku was apparently more familiar with local happenings than Sora was, but he knew what they were referring to. A beige colored rectangle had been seated on top of that mountain for decades, stark against the lushness of its surroundings.

“ _Exactly!_ ” She slammed her fork down on the table for emphasis. “It’s been around since early in the Cold War, is out of commission, and is unattractive. And it was still met with resistance by people claiming that removing the observatory would be wrong since it would be removing a piece of history, but that mountain is a better piece of history than the observatory will ever be. But no one talks about how much older the mountain is than the stupid observatory.”

Unable to contribute to the current thread of conversation, Sora silently mused the age of mountains. He thought about the millions of years the things they had observed on earth and if….. And if they remembered seeing something like this before. He quickly shut the thought down. _Mt. Umunhum has an ugly hat, haha,_ he thought instead. He then distracted himself with the casserole dish, which was now empty.

Sora cleared the table without offering, intent on making up for making Kairi make dinner by herself. She and Roxas left to lounge on the living room couches, Kairi working with a friendship bracelet taped to one of her knees and Roxas tapping at a Gameboy Color. Riku approached Sora as he scrubbed at the casserole dish in the kitchen sink and wordlessly rested his chin on the top of his head, hands in his pockets, hair in his eyes. He reminded Sora of a very large sheepdog, with slits of bright green eyes only ever just peering down at him through a waterfall of silver hair.

They stood that way for a moment while Sora splashed idly in the sink and pretended not to enjoy how warm the underside of his chin felt on the top of his head until Riku mumbled, “Do you wanna go for a run?”

Sora paused to gauge his level of exhaustion and weighed it against his desire to spend time alone with his friend and to his dismay he found he felt more tired. He reached back with his wet, soapy hands and ran them up through Riku’s hair. “Let’s go tomorrow,” he offered.

“Gh--” Riku ducked under Sora’s arms to escape the soggy headlock.

“I’m tired and I can’t wait to go to bed,” Sora said.

“Tomorrow.” Riku hummed and ruffled Sora’s hair for a moment before leaving him alone with the dishes.

 

 

Sora and Roxas shared Sora’s double bed. Sora had originally meant to give the bed to his brother and sleep on the floor, but that had changed quickly. It reminded him of when they shared a bunk in the same room when they were younger. Roxas slept on the top bunk, but about half the time he preferred to crowd Sora in the bottom bunk. In the middle of the night he would climb down and insert himself firmly between his brother and the wall. Sora didn’t mind.

When the lights had been turned off and they were settled in but still awake, Roxas stretched and pretended to smack Sora in the face as he did so.

Sora returned the gesture by giving him a gentle kick to the shin. “Night, Roxas,” he said.

“Night, Sora.” Roxas started to turn onto his side, but stopped and spoke again, in a whisper this time. “...Can you call me the next time you’re gonna be gone for so long?”

“Of course,” he whispered back.

Roxas seemed satisfied with that answer and turned back onto his side. “Goodnight, Sora.”

Through the darkness, somewhere in the distance, Sora could hear the gentle trilling of a screech owl echoing through the empty streets lined with empty houses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bearing with me so far!
> 
> The Earth Is Not a Cold Dead Place is an album by Explosions in the Sky. Listen to it, it's good.
> 
> The Mt. Umunhum observatory is real and it's ugly.


	2. Talon of the Hawk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The good thing about this cast is I can still hold a knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Run for your life, it's Kairi's knife. Warning for uncomfortable, but not terribly graphic injury in this chapter.

“We’ll be fine, we’re just going for a run.” Sora and Riku stood at the front door which was currently being barred from exit by an adamant Kairi.

It was still early in the day and the fog--its presence highly uncharacteristic for the time of year--had not yet been burned away by the sun. It hung lower than usual and the condensation leaked from its thick blanket, creating a light drizzle. Riku swayed impatiently from side to side, the material of his raincoat creating a gentle _swish, swish,_ and his hair (which he had contained in a messy ponytail but for some reason still decided to let his bangs fall over his eyes) swayed with him. Sora suddenly became aware that he had tied his shoes too tight and that they were hurting him.

“I’m not gonna relax unless you take it.” She was pressing a folding pocket knife into Sora’s hand, of which she kept with her at all times and used with such versatility that sometimes it frightened him. It rested in its own leather sheath that was decorated with thread woven around it in yellow and turquoise. When Sora’s hand refused to close around it, she huffed and shoved the knife directly into the pocket of his jacket instead.

Sora patted his pocket which now had a knife-shaped lump in it, feeling somewhat defeated. He wished she wouldn’t worry about him so much.  

Kairi continued to gaze at him sternly for a moment. Then her eyes brightened and her gaze shifted to expectant.

Sora leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on the cheek. “Back in an hour,” he assured her. He shot her a grin as an impatient Riku shoved him outside and closed the door behind them.

  


For the first mile or so, they jogged side by side in silence with no sound between them but their breathing and the _swish, swish_ of Riku’s raincoat. The windows of the houses lining the street were uncomfortably dark, no movement to be seen beyond them. After two months they had become accustomed to quiet, but the eeriness remained in other ways. Dark-eyed juncos hopped about the lawns of the abandoned houses without mind. Hidden somewhere in the fog, a mourning dove cried. To them, life went on as usual.

Riku’s pace slowed to a walk and Sora fell into step. Still, neither of them spoke. Alone with Riku, the silence felt comfortable.

They walked another half a mile before Riku’s expression changed to a small grin. “Kairi sure worries about you a lot, huh,” he said with amusement in his voice.

Sora groaned in response. Riku was teasing, but only a little. He knew it was true and after The End she had only become even more protective. Just a couple years after they first met he realized he’d grossly miscalculated his position in their relationship.

 

* * *

 

_The shift happened at age thirteen, when the blade of her knife had been in his hand._

 

_Sora had not yet grown out of the rough and tumble life of a younger child, prone to stupid injuries born out of nothing more than clumsiness;  he was short, slim, and easily knocked about, which resulted in the presence of bruises, scabs, and other surface injuries being a constant presence on his person. On top of that fact, he enjoyed organized sports, which caused him to wear more than his fair share of Band-aids and gauze to track meets._

_The day the knife had been in his hand, he had been spending the afternoon horsing around on the ancient playground at the park down the block from the local high school with Riku and Kairi. The wood on the play structures was so old he figured that after so many decades the rot was now essential to its structural integrity. He’d just made to the top of the tallest structure and as he sat proudly on its steepled roof, he let out a whoop of victory for his friends below (though he had been climbing to the tallest spot on the playground for years, he was proud each time.) But he had no time to revel in the feeling, because for the first time, he slipped._

_He scrabbled helplessly at the edge of the roof with his nails, but he only succeeded in tearing up the softened wood. He saw his friends’ blurry faces change to an expression of horror as the world began to turn in slow motion. He hit the lower level of the wooden structure hands-first, skidding before the rest of his body followed him to the ground as if he’d been given a suplex by an invisible entity. Sora heard the frantic voices of his friends. His entire body felt bruised. In his hands, there was so much -- his mind couldn’t finish the thought, because there was_ so much.

_“Sora!”_

_“Are you okay, Sora?”_

_Sora groaned loudly and rolled onto his back. Kairi and Riku were standing over him. “I’m fine, but my hands --” He held them up and heard his friends inhale sharply. “It really, really hurts.”_

_“Give ‘em,” said Kairi, taking his hands in her own. They were scraped to all hell, with a multitude of splinters sticking straight up and making his palms look like a miniature forest. She motioned to Riku, who fetched a water bottle from his backpack and began to pour its contents onto Sora’s hands._

_Sora let out a hiss, but didn’t fight her grip. She began to carefully pick out the splinters. For the small ones she couldn’t remove on her own, she enlisted Riku to dig them out with his overgrown fingernails. But the worst was yet to come, because the soft and rotting wood of the play structure roof had become buried underneath his fingernails and he didn’t know how he was going to get it out._

_Kairi took a deep breath and said, “I can fix this, but you’re not gonna like it.”_

_Sora groaned again. “Please, Kairi. It hurts so bad.”_

_“Do you trust me?”_

_Sora nodded._

_He watched in horror as she withdrew a folding pocket knife from a decorated leather sheath, which she had apparently been carrying in one of the front pockets of her jeans. His first thought was,_ It’s against the rules to bring a knife to school. _His second thought was worse._

_“Are you cutting off my fingernails??” Sora yelped as he retrieved his hands quickly and shied away._

_Riku let out a short laugh that sounded more like a bark._

_“You said you trusted me, so trust me,” said Kairi, exasperated. Sora reluctantly returned his hands to her care. “I need just one for now.”_

_He lowered his free hand onto his lap and watched as she straightened the blade, then began carefully insert the blunt end under his nails to scrape away the wood fibers. He let out a pitiful whine and turned his head away to avoid watching, the same way he did when he had to get his blood drawn._

_“You can squeeze my hand if you want,” Riku offered in a quiet voice. Sora shamelessly took it._

_Fifteen minutes later, Sora’s fingernails were clean of splinters. He was sitting with his back stiff and his arm extended at a ninety-degree angle, head turned as far away from Kairi as possible, eyes squeezed shut. He had not let out a sound the entire time, but tears were still streaming down his cheeks._

_“Done,” said Kairi. She folded the pocket knife with a_ click _and returned it to its sheath._

_Sora released his grip on Riku’s hand and opened his eyes._

_“Jesus christ, Sora, now Kairi has gotta fix_ my _hand,” Riku said, rubbing at his sore joints. “When I said you could squeeze it I didn’t mean you could destroy it.”_

_Sora opened his mouth to apologize for being such a wimp, but instead he just said, “Thanks.”_

 

* * *

 

Riku broke his train of thought. “Remember when--" 

“Yes, Riku, every time I see her knife I think about it. I can still feel ghost pains under my nails. And she makes me carry the thing she _stabbed me with_ now,” Sora whined. Somehow Riku always knew what he was thinking, so he always knew which stick to would be best to poke him with. In this case, he was poking him with Kairi’s knife.

Riku let out a laugh that was heartier than anything Sora had heard from him in weeks. It made something in his stomach stir.

“Worse than when you broke your arm in third grade?” Riku tilted his head and peered down at him in amusement.

“Worse than when I broke my arm in third grade.”

Underneath his sheepdog-hair, Riku’s eyes looked like earthshine moons, the color of…. Uh. The color of… Suave brand shampoo. The ocean scented kind. Sora looked away and hoped that he was not still reading his thoughts.

A humming noise from behind them interrupted their conversation. They jumped and turned to face the sound, Riku crouching slightly in a defensive position and Sora reaching quickly into his jacket pocket to grasp the knife.

The humming belonged to an ancient beach cruiser being ridden by a girl with messy brown hair and a dirty orange sweatshirt. She was pedalling hard with her rear in the air, looking tired and sweaty. Sora recognized her as being one of Roxas’ friends. She skidded in front of them and appeared to fall off her bike rather than dismount. Sora opened his mouth to greet her but she beat him to the punch.

“Do.. you.. have… a radio?” She panted between syllables, trying to catch her breath. “Not asking for one. Asking if you have one.”

“Hi, Olette.”

“Hi, Sora, hi, Riku. Do you... have a radio?” Olette repeated with a wheeze.

Sora didn’t know why she was asking (radios had not been a thing since they were in elementary school) but he answered her anyway. “Roxas used to have a boombox. I think it might be in the garage somewhere.”

“Good. Go find it. Turn it to a local channel, any of them.” Still puffing, she mounted her bike again and sat back on the seat with her arms dangling loosely at her sides and both feet resting on the ground.

“How come? Also, are you out by yourself?” Riku asked.

“Some college students have taken over a few of the local radio stations and are making announcements about something they’re organizing. I’m not completely alone; Pence and Hayner are about in different neighborhoods. We don’t know how many people have working electricity, so we’re telling everyone we run into to tune in.” Olette’s breathing had evened out by now. She pursed her lips and leaned forward to squeeze the handlebars. “And if you haven’t gotten our text or email blast yet, that was _not_ my job.”

They watched her race away, still pedalling hard, fighting the weight of her bicycle with her rear in the air.

 

* * *

 

The garage was filled with the musk of fifteen years of gasoline stains. Sora, Riku and Roxas were crammed into the tiny storage room, rummaging through old and moldy cardboard boxes that had finally begun to disintegrate after years of neglect in the gasoline-scented space. Roxas swore every time he found silverfish hiding between the flaps of the boxes he had disturbed during his rummaging. Roxas was swearing a lot.

“I think I found the boombox, it was in the box with the-- oh fuck!” Roxas dropped the box he was holding with a _thud_ followed by a clattering. A family of silverfish scuttled out and disappeared past the doorway.

“Do you just forget about the fifty other bugs you’ve found already or what?” Riku squinted in annoyance at the sudden loud sound.

“They are gross _every time,_ ” Roxas hissed.

Sora examined the box, now laying sadly on its side. The boombox had rolled out of it and had come to a rest in an upside down position. A pile of CDs lay in its wake. He turned the boombox over and pressed on the CD cover. A CD was still nestled inside it.

“Didn’t know you were ever into Britney Spears, Roxas.”

“That’s Sora’s.”

“ _Baby One More Time?_ ”

“I had a lunchbox with her face on it in first grade, too,” said Sora.

Riku tilted his head, his eyebrows raised in amusement, clearly fighting to decide whether the twins were just fucking with him or if Sora had really been a Spears fan at the tender age of six. Sora thought it was the funniest face he’d ever seen him make.

Riku didn’t press it; instead he leaned down and pawed through the pile of CDs. A lot of them clearly belonged to their parents—Santana, Johnny Cash, Bruce Springsteen…. A few albums of childrens’ songs on cassette tape. He noticed a badly cracked jewel case with a torn, faded cover resting in the pile and opened it to reveal a well worn (likely unplayable) CD. _I Hate My Friends._

“You were into punk rock at a pretty young age, huh.”

“How’d you find that? I’ve been looking for it for ages!” Roxas slipped the album out of Riku’s hands and ran his fingers over the cracks in the jewel case thoughtfully, his face an uncertain mix of emotion. He took the CD out and set it in the boombox, and put _Baby One More Time_ in the damaged case.

Sora put a hand on Roxas’ shoulder. “Slow down, we need to turn on the radio first.” He picked up the boombox and wove his way out of the garage and into the kitchen with the others in tow, plugged it into an outlet, and sat it neatly on the kitchen table. They squinted at the too-small LED display while Sora searched for a local station.

Sora half-expected to hear the familiar radio jingle followed by a “96.5 KOIT… better music, for a better workday,” but instead a foreign voice crackled into focus. 

“Hi, everyone. This is a pre-recorded message,” said the voice, tense but unwavering. “We apologize up-front for our lack of professionalism, because we are not the ones who were trained for this, so we will speak plainly to you.”

The three of them were holding their breath. At some point, Kairi had appeared in the living room, but as she opened her mouth to greet them they held their fingers over their lips in perfect unison.

“We’re a group of college students from around the area and we are working on creating a database for those of you who need help, or can offer help to others. We don’t know how many still have electricity or water, or when it will turn off for people who _do_ have electricity and water, so we are reaching out in as many ways as possible.”

A different voice spoke now. It was soft and even. “If you are someone with medical training, we are looking for people like you to volunteer to assist those who need help. If you have supplies --food or otherwise--that you can afford to donate, we have set up pantries at certain college campuses. Here are a few ways you can reach us…” The voice calmly rattled off a list of phone numbers.             

The first voice spoke again. “Our CS major friends are working on developing a website… a different team is also working on an app. They’re good at what they do; shouldn’t be a problem for them to make everything easily accessible. We will sent out news when it gets set up, which should be only a matter of days.”

“Thank you for listening,” said the soft voice. “ If you didn’t catch it all, this recording will play again in five minutes. Keep your eyes and ears out for us, and be well. Thank you again.”

The recording gave way to static. Roxas turned the radio off and began to spin the CD.

“I’m glad people are making an effort to help each other,” Kairi sighed. “It makes me feel just a little less nervous.” Her voice was bright but her expression was distant. 

Sora suddenly became aware of Riku’s body heat beside him and how cold Kairi felt before him. In the background, the CD began to skip and repeat itself. For a moment, Sora thought it might have felt profound, had Roxas not pretended to trash the boombox with comic effort.

 

_I’m scared I’m gonna die as lonely as I feel._

_I’m scared I’m gonna die as lonely as I feel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talon of the Hawk is an album by The Front Bottoms. The album art is all you really need to know about it in regards to this chapter. Unless you want to know more about me personally, in which you should listen to the entire album.
> 
> Ps, Sora's injury is something that happened to me as a kid, but replace wood fibers with paint chips and the pocket knife with a credit card.


	3. Your Ex-Lover Is Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God, that was strange to see you again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who've read this far!! This chapter could be alternately titled as "Xion is almost too gay to function," but then I'd be breaking the music theme I'd set up so far.
> 
> A warning for implied self-harm in this one.

_She was the brightest thing in the room. She was the patch of sunlight falling from the window and spilling onto a dark living room floor, and Xion wanted to curl up in it and sleep forever. She was Lefkara lace in human form, soft, delicate, and complicated. Always with a sketchbook under her arm. Always with a gentle smile and apologetic eyes._

_They met at Tech Camp, the summer before high school. For three weeks they sat next to each other in the same programming class, and when the month was over, they sat together on top of the bell tower, nursing Jamba Juice smoothies in the August heat._

_“When you go back to school, don’t forget about me,” Xion had said._

_But she did._

_In September, Xion cut her hair short._

 

* * *

 

Xion found herself in the company of the one she had gone to once before. He was tall, bony, and never described himself as being anything other than his name: Lea. He was a person parents would describe as a bad influence--he was rude, painted his nails black, and smelled constantly of a nauseating mix of Tokyomilk Dark perfume and cigarette smoke. But he had the wingspan of an albatross, and swept her protectively under it without a second thought.

Now, Xion was in the kitchen of Lea’s two-bedroom townhouse, crushing empty soda cans with her feet. She was in a foul mood, and when she was in a foul mood she liked to crush the recycling. _Not that recycling is happening at the moment_ , she thought, but continued to separate the garbage out of habit anyway.

“Hey. Want some pizza boxes to go with those cans?” Lea’s easy voice floated into the kitchen. Xion huffed, which Lea took to mean as a _yes_. He appeared in the doorway with the aforementioned pizza boxes under one arm, and an old pair of combat boots in the other. He was wearing a dirty graphic t-shirt with equally dirty sweatpants and a braid that was half-undone like he hadn’t bothered with his hair in days. “These are both for you. The boxes are for crushing. The boots are to do the crushing better.”

Xion did not look any better than he did. She had worn nothing but a faded black sweatshirt and her middle school P.E. shorts for a week. She did not look at him and opted instead to stare at the floor. Maybe if she stared hard enough, she could make herself clip through it and out of her current plane of existence.

Lea began to extend his arms to offer her the items, then froze and narrowed his eyes. “Have you been crushing cans with your bare feet?” It was a rhetorical question; her feet were bare. She continued to stare blankly in their general direction. Lea squatted and lifted her foot to examine it like a blacksmith might do to a fit a horse for shoes. “Jesus fuck, Xion.”

Lea dropped the pizza boxes and the boots haphazardly on the kitchen floor and scooped Xion into his arms. He carried her into the townhouse’s single bathroom and sat her on the rim of the bathtub, one hand resting on her back and the other reaching to turn on the faucet.

“What’s got you in such a twist today?”

“Absolutely nothing.”  As the water ran over her feet, she watched the small stream of blood flow down the drain, and the water turn pink, and then clear. “It’s absolutely nothing, and I guess that’s why I’m so mad.”

He could have said, _Everyone has those moods. You’re fine._ He could have said that. But Xion saw a dark sort of understanding in his eyes, and instead he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and said, “Let’s go outside.”

 

Xion found herself standing on a patch of grass outside the townhouse complex, freshly showered, wearing a bomber jacket and clean pair of sweatpants. Her hair was still wet and her feet were still bare (though now wrapped in a light layer of gauze). Lea stood a few feet away, still in just a t-shirt, with one hand in his pocket and the other hand holding a cigarette. His braid had finally completely fallen apart and his hair had returned to falling over his shoulders like a fiery mane.

“How’s your feet?”

“Don’t hurt much.”

“How’s your heart?”

“Ugh.”

Lea lifted the cigarette like he meant to take a drag, but seemed to decide better and dropped it on the sidewalk next to him and stomped it out instead. “One of the actually useful things I learned in my first year of college was how to fix a mood,” he said. “Taking a shower and going outside are a couple of the steps.”

Xion focused on the dry grass between her toes and how cold the breeze felt when her hair was damp. After a moment of consideration, she supposed it felt good. “Are you going to make me do all of them?”

“Only if you want to.”

On occasion, Lea could be be genuinely amiable when he wasn’t hiding behind layers of sarcasm and choler. Xion felt that even after two years, she was still unable to tell which side of him was an act, and which side was true. Maybe he wasn’t sure, either.

“What’s the next step?”

“Well, you already did some cleaning. How do you feel about eating?”

Xion considered the state of her stomach. Or she tried to, but the radio signals between it and her brain appeared to be jammed, so she just shrugged and returned to staring at the ground. But after a moment she felt a tiny smile creeping onto her face. “Lea, you’re really nice when you’re not being horribly rude all the time.”

“What are you talking about? I’m always this nice.” Lea’s mouth twisted itself into a crooked grin. He turned away and ambled back into the building,  leaving Xion alone on the lawn.

The pall of fog that had been hanging heavily over the neighborhood all morning was finally beginning to be burned away by the afternoon sun. The weather was not particularly cold, but Xion still welcomed the sun on her back. It was almost completely silent; only the call of a distant mourning dove and the rustle of leaves in the breeze assured her that she was not standing in a vacuum. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sunlight. As she began to feel the radio static in her stomach begin to come into focus, the hum of a skateboard broke the silence, pulling her out of her shallow meditative state.

The skateboard sound grew louder, heralding a boy in a collared jacket and distressed (ever too baggy) jeans, shock of unruly blonde hair swept across his forehead. He waved when he saw her and when he came near enough, he slipped his skateboard out from under his feet and under his arm and bounded over on foot.

“Xion!” He let the skateboard fall onto the lawn as he wrapped her tightly in his arms.

“Hey, Roxas.” Xion returned the hug and let him spin her around a bit before letting go. He was grinning so hard she thought she could hear the muscles in his cheeks straining. _He’s in a good mood for once._

When bent down to pick up his skateboard again, his smile fell slightly. “What happened to your feet?”

“Just a few cuts, it’s not a big deal.” Xion wiggled her toes to prove that her feet were still in working condition.

Roxas hummed, seeming satisfied with her answer. “Hey, I haven’t seen you in a minute,” he said, changing the subject. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here. This is great! Now I get to hang out with both you and Lea today.”

“Actually... About that. I kind of live here now.”

“What! Xion, how could you not tell me! I’m gonna move in now!” Roxas shook her shoulder playfully with one arm (his skateboard was tucked safely under the other.)

Xion gave him a sheepish smile and tucked her hair behind one ear. “Sorry, I really meant to tell you earlier but… things just got busy.” She tried not to think about all the time she had spent lying on Lea’s couch, feeling paralysed.

“Oh, Xion, don’t worry about it.” Roxas flashed her another smile. Strained this time.

Lea was waiting for them at the door, swinging it open before Roxas could knock a second time. For a split second they both paused -- like a couple of cats staring each other down--but Roxas was not swift enough to outrun the length of Lea’s arms and found himself wrapped in them with his shoulder pressed awkwardly against his stomach and cheek flush to his chest.

“Get off me, you skeleton! You’re hurting me!” Roxas huffed and squirmed helplessly for a moment before Lea released him, laughing. Roxas (whose face had turned a deep shade of pink at some point) elbowed him in the stomach.

 _How come boys can never hug each other like normal goddamn people_ , Xion thought, rolling her eyes and squeezing her way through the doorway that was currently blocked by her friends’ tussel.

“Hold on, I found something I wanna show you.” Roxas dropped his backpack on the floor and propped his skateboard gently against the side of the couch, then returned to his bag and began to dig through it. From it he drew a broken jewel case with a worn cover. In barely legible text, the title read _I Hate My Friends._

Lea’s mouth opened and stayed that way for a solid minute as if he was holding an invisible orange peel in his teeth, his eyes wide and glittering. “God, you still kept it?”

Xion shot them a curious look.

“Lea gave this to me for my birthday when I turned thirteen,” Roxas explained. “It doesn’t play anymore; I just wanted to show you that I still had it.”

“Aw, man,” Lea breathed, running his hands through his hair, expression a mix of entertainment and disbelief. “I’m flattered, you know.”

Roxas beamed at him.

Xion wondered idly about the unplayable CD in the jewel case. Every now and then, she was reminded that they had known each other twice as long as she had known them.

And Roxas--normally so prickly and easily agitated--was in a good mood when he presented it from the depths of his backpack, brought back from whatever hell he’d put that CD through. In her mind, she imagined quietly sweeping her own bad mood away somewhere behind the fridge. She’d come back for it later.

She lay down on the couch, her head resting on its arm and her knees in the air. On the opposite wall loomed a CD shelf of considerable size. Lea and Roxas were lingering in front of it, shuffling its contents as they chatted. Xion watched them through her eyelashes. At some point their voices sank to a low mumble, like she was listening to them from the other side of a thick glass door. One of them had begun to play a CD on the stereo; the sound felt far away and dissonant.

 

* * *

 

_Xion chased her through a maze of stucco and terracotta roof tile. Every time she came close enough to see her face, to call out, she turned the corner and disappeared again. Blending into the white walls. Vanishing into the clear blue sky. It was always the same._

 

* * *

 

Xion was facedown on the floor. Turning her head revealed the shadow of Lea, who leaned over her with his hands on his knees. She could see Roxas peering at her from over the back of the couch, snickering.

Lea let out a barking laugh--somewhere between a wheeze and croup--and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Sometimes I forget you’re just as much of a dork as Roxas is,” he said.

“I fell asleep?”

“Like a fucking log. You didn’t move an inch, and then…” Lea was laughing harder now, pausing to wipe a tear from his eye. “...You just rolled off the couch right onto your face.”

“Oh.” Xion still felt groggy. Her bad mood, however, seemed to have disappeared for the time being.

“Hey, I just got a text from Kairi,” Roxas interrupted. “She wants Nyquil… but if I’m gonna go to a pharmacy she says we should stock up on prescription meds before we run out.”

Lea squinted at him. “She expects me to take you to wherever the hell she knows I can get that stuff, doesn’t she.”

“Please?” Roxas batted his eyelashes imploringly. “I don’t want to go to CVS alone; it scares me. It has carpet. And you can drive.”

Lea grinned behind the hand he’d plastered to his face. “I’m babysitting… two baby birds. Fine, I’ll take you. Put your shoes on. And Xion…” He put a hand to Xion’s shoulder. “Put some _fucking_ shoes on.”

Roxas pumped a fist in the air in an exaggerated gesture of victory.

“Also, we’re not going to CVS.”

“Secret meth lab?”

“Xion, who do you think I hang out with? It’s not a secret meth lab. I know a gal.” Lea said this as he hurriedly tapped a text message out to someone with one thumb while trying to put on a jacket with his one free arm.

“So secret meth lab?”

“Oh my god. Just put your shoes on,” Lea groaned and herded his friends out the door.

 

 

The sky was completely clear now and the sun shone proudly over the hills. Along the freeway, a satellite dish sat high on a hill, gazing upward at the empty sky. Xion stared at it from the back seat, her elbow against the window and her chin resting on her hand. It looked almost forlorn. Gazing at the sky forever, no longer with a purpose, doomed to fall into disrepair.

They pulled into the parking lot of a quiet low-rise apartment complex on a tree-lined street. It was at least ten degrees colder where they were and Xion could see her breath now.  She hugged her shoulders immediately upon stepping out of the car, facing a rush of cold air that was punctuated by the smell of woodsmoke. The leaves that still remained on the trees shivered in the breeze.

She followed Lea along the path, passing by neglected patches of lawn that become dry and brown in the dry weather. His red hair was the most intense spot of color in the setting, like a cardinal in the dead of winter someplace where it snows. Roxas shuffled beside her, puffing and admiring the sight of his breath dissipating in the sunlight.

At last they arrived at the door of an apartment located on the first floor. A caved-in jack-o’-lantern sat on the step, its eyes squeezed shut and its mouth curled into a mirthless grimace. Lea checked his phone and tapped out another text message. After a moment, he put it away and opened the door himself. They stepped inside and navigated a suspiciously large pile of shoes littered throughout the floor of a dark, narrow foyer (Xion took her own shoes off out of habit, but placed them neatly by the door). Around the corner, the hallway opened into the living room.

The sight that beheld them made Xion wonder if they had intruded upon a LAN party. There were at least five laptops sitting in various places throughout the room, most with people who looked about college-aged sitting in front of them. Two monitors were running upon a desk accompanied by microphones. An outdated stereo was placed on a coffee table with an old iPod plugged into it, playing a song from some musical she didn’t recognize.

Everyone in the room turned to stare at them at once. Xion noticed that the room was terribly cold. She desperately wanted to retreat and hide behind Lea, but she felt his hand hovering behind her shoulder blades, gently urging her forward.

“Hey,” said Lea.

There was a murmur of familiarity. The one who had been sitting cross-legged on the couch shed the blanket she had been wearing over her shoulders and rose to greet him. She was tall--almost as tall as Lea was--but while Lea was the gangly skeleton of a strangely proportioned gargoyle come to life, she was graceful and walked with a sort of dignity Xion had only seen in professional athletes. Her short hair was an impressively deep shade of blue, though she had apparently not bothered with its upkeep for a while because Xion could see its dark roots coming through in the stray hairs in front of her ears. She wore black leggings and an open maroon zip hoodie over a shirt with a clearly personal and lovingly hand-embroidered image of a poorly drawn Bart Simpson riding a skateboard, with text beneath it that read “I’M A RUDEBOY.” Xion decided that she was in love with her.

“Hey,” she said, returning Lea’s greeting. Then turning to Xion and Roxas, she said, “I’m Aqua. It’s nice to meet you.” Her voice was gentle, but betrayed something very tired behind it.

Xion knew the proper thing to do was to offer her own name, but she couldn’t speak. She smiled idly instead and hoped she didn’t look too sweaty.

“These are my friends, Roxas and Xion.” Lea ruffled their hair respectively with a proud grin. Roxas gave the room a casual wave.

“Oh, Roxas! I know about you. Every sentence out of Lea’s mouth used to have your name in it somewhere.” Aqua turned a curious gaze toward Xion. “I’m not familiar with your name, though.”

“We met after you graduated high school,” Lea informed her.

It struck Xion suddenly that Lea had a life outside of the presence of her, and even Roxas. Not in the way Lea talked cryptically about who he’d spent his time with before she met him; she always figured he must’ve run with a bad crowd for a while. Roxas never talked about it, either ( _not my story to tell,_ he’d say.) But Aqua, who appeared to be studious and responsible and greeted Lea with a kind sense of familiarity, did not seem to be a part of his shadowy past. But then, she remembered, that they were there for prescription medication. Maybe she was someone who dealt hard drugs to the rich college students. Maybe she ran a secret meth lab. Xion asked her gut what it made of the situation. _Aqua is so pretty_ , said her gut.

By now Roxas had left Xion’s side in favor of plopping himself down in front of the others on the living room floor and introducing himself. One of them was sitting with her knees bent and her back resting against the couch; she wore a pink robe and her mousy brown hair was tied into a braid that curled over her shoulder and fixed neatly with a bow. In her lap she cuddled a mug of something still steaming. The other sat cross-legged and hunched over a short ways away, a few inches of air between his knees and her feet, wearing an outdoor coat with a fur lined collar over flannel pajamas. His bangs fell over his face, just barely hiding a faded scar which ran down from the middle of his forehead and across the bridge of his nose in its shadow.

Aqua motioned for them to follow her into the living room and assumed her previous position on the couch. Xion sat on her feet next to Roxas. Lea sat on the back on the couch with his feet on the cushions.

The one in the pink robe smiled gently and offered her hand to Xion. “I’m Aerith. This guy over here—” She nodded to the warmly dressed man beside her who was currently explaining something on his computer screen to Roxas, “—Is Leon.”

Xion shook Aerith’s hand tentatively. “Can I ask… What’s with all the computers and pajamas? Did Lea bring us to a sleepover?”

Aerith let out a bright giggle that was loud enough to interrupt Roxas and Leon’s conversation for a moment, causing them to turn to look at her. “Hardly sleeping! No, we have some big projects we’re working on. We’ve been awake for a lot longer than I wish to tell you.”

“Can you tell me why is it so fucking cold in here?” Lea’s voice drifted over from the top of the couch.

“Heater’s broke,” mumbled Leon.

“Damn.”

Aerith flashed Xion and Roxas a pained smile. Lea and Aqua returned to whatever reminiscent smalltalk they’d been engaged in--what they’d been doing in their respective colleges, recalling something stupid that had happened back in high school on some day, the time someone set the boys’ bathroom on fire--before Lea took a breath and sat up with his back straight.

“I did come to ask you for a favor,” he began, carefully.

“Of course you did,” Aqua said. Her eyes grew clouded.

“Sorry about last time.”

For a moment, the air between them was tense. Lea held his breath. Then Aqua keeled backward with a hearty laugh, nearly banging the back of her head on the arm of the couch.

“You had _better_ be. Okay. State your business,” she said in the midst of her laughter. The dark bags under her eyes disappeared underneath her cheeks, which had now become deeply rosy. She wiped a solitary tear from her eye with fist.

Roxas stared at Xion with his eyebrows raised in amusement; Xion returned the look.

“You have medicine. And I can probably fix your furnace,” Lea said.

The bags under her eyes returned when she sighed. “I didn’t get a job as a pharmacy technician for people to hound me for drugs, but I’d really appreciate having a working heater.”

_Pharmacy technician. That’s it._

“It’s cold medicine and some prescription stuff. Rox, hand her the list,” Lea said. Roxas complied, pulling a wrinkled piece of notebook paper from his pants pocket.

Aqua examined the questionable handwriting. “I can do that; these are easy enough to find.”

“Xion, do you need anything?”

Xion recited the name on the bottle she kept on her nightstand. She’d had the same prescription for so long that the act of saying it was probably stored somewhere in her lips’ muscle memory.

Aqua grabbed a stray pen from the coffee table and scribbled it on Roxas’ note. “Okay, uh-huh,” she hummed, clicking the pen a few times before returning it to the coffee table. She discarded her hoodie in favor of a navy blue peacoat that was draped over one of the chairs at the kitchen table and slipped into a pair of black boots. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

She reached to open the door, but it opened before her fingers met the handle. Amidst the rush of freezing air Xion could see the shadow of a tall figure standing in the doorframe, trailing a few dead leaves into the foyer.

Aqua’s neutral expression transformed into an enthusiastic smile. “Hey, Terra! You’re back early.” She greeted him with an energetic pat on the shoulder.

There was a bright spot within Terra’s shadow. Xion’s heart jumped to her throat. Next to him stood a girl; under her arm she carried a notebook. She had a gentle smile and apologetic eyes.

Xion wanted to call her name, but no sound left her lips. She mouthed it to herself in silence.

 

_Naminé._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your Ex-Lover Is Dead is a song by Stars.
> 
> Aqua's shirt is based on a picture of some bootleg Bart Simpson shirt I saw once and for the life of me can't find again.


	4. The Point Sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I know that if November had been deader  
> If we'd hidden a bit better  
> We'd be strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Troubled girl with a bad heart meets troubled friends.

_At the back of the school, there were tiny soundproofed band practice rooms where Xion liked to hole away in her free time. The band kids favored the large band room at the other end of the hall, so the rooms were always empty. Out of sight, out of mind; no one ever bothered her there._

_For the first two months of her freshman year of high school, Xion ate her lunch in the company of the spinet piano (there was one on every practice room, but she liked the one with the black finish). Sometimes she played it, but mostly she sat on its wooden bench and poked at the contents of her thermos. Picking out the baby corn to discard. Picking out the lotus root to save for last. Until one day in the beginning of November, it rained, and she had a visitor._

_She had been playing the piano that day--something slow and melancholy--when the door opened suddenly. She stared wide-eyed and startled at the figure in the doorway who had broken her mental bubble, her hands frozen in place hovering above the keys. It was a boy with fire engine red hair, pushed back and limp with rainwater. Around his neck he wore a yellow tartan scarf, but the rest of his ensemble was entirely black. He was carrying his backpack by one strap with his hand, like he had only just slipped it off one shoulder in preparation to dump it on the floor of a presumably empty practice room._

_“Um, sorry, do you want me to leave--” Xion hurriedly screwed the lid back onto her thermos and prepared to get up, but the boy walked in and threw his backpack on the ground anyway._

_“Naw. Don’t mind me. Keep playing.” He sat down in a chair at the opposite end of the room and produced a flip-phone from his pocket, which he then proceeded to tap at with his thumbs._

_Xion kept staring at him. Now that he was closer, she could see just how tall he was. He was definitely older; maybe a junior? A senior? Under his scarf was a black choker. His nails were not black with nail polish, but with Sharpie marker. He had multiple piercings in each ear. And... was he wearing eyeliner?_

_“Um.” Xion mumbled. But the boy did not look up. Stiffly, she turned back to the piano and resumed playing._

_But after some time, a voice floated over from the other end of the room: “God, that’s sad.”_

_“What?”_

_“The song you’re playing. It’s really sad.” At last the boy looked up from his phone. Xion could see that his eyes were a deep shade of jade, stark in contrast to his red hair, narrow and catlike._

_“Gymnopedie No.1. By Erik Satie.” Xion almost whispered it. “I can play something else.”_

_“No,” the he said. “It goes with the weather.”_

_Xion played until the bell rang. The boy shoved his phone back into his pocket, and slinging his backpack over one shoulder, he shuffled past her to the door. He opened it, then paused to tilt his head toward her._

_“My name’s Lea, by the way.”_

_“I’m Xion.”_

_“See ya ‘round.” And then he disappeared into the hallway amongst the passing crowd._

 

* * *

 

Xion could hear the ocean. It was incredibly loud, like when she held a seashell up to her ear and the sound of the waves drowned everything out. But slowly, she heard Lea’s voice come into focus above the endless roar.

“Xion. Xion. Xion, shit, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His voice sounded tinny and far away.

“I think… maybe…. I have,” she mumbled slowly. The ocean waves in her ears suddenly became waves of nausea; she clapped a hand over her mouth and willed herself not to throw up. Vomiting in front of a bunch of pretty girls was not very high on her list of things she wanted to do today.

Lea, still on the back of the couch, hadn’t heard her. But Roxas--who had been sitting next to her the entire time--was staring at her with his eyes wide in concern. When her head finally returned to her body and the nausea subsided she realized that he had a gentle grip on her wrist.

“Sorry; head rush,” Xion said, audibly this time. She felt Roxas let go.

From the perspective of the doorway Xion was hidden, though she could see the faces of Aqua and the others from where she sat. They had not noticed brief commotion. Xion watched the tall figure--Terra, was it?--slip off a dark grey car coat and drape it over the nearest chair. Naminé started to remove the wool cardigan she’d been wearing, but she’d slipped off no farther than her elbows before tugging it back over her shoulders while Aqua apologized for the broken heater.

There was still a tumult of conflict boiling in Xion’s stomach; the nausea was gone but adrenaline continued to simmer there. She couldn’t pick out which emotions were part of the horrendous cocktail and running outside to let her feelings cool off and congeal into something decipherable did not seem to be an option. Her first inclination (aside from vomiting) was to leap up and embrace Naminé. The second, which crept up from somewhere dark in her heart, was to act petty. _How come you never called? Didn’t you care enough not to forget?_

“Oh--hey, Lea.” Terra only seemed mildly surprised to see Lea hanging off the back of the couch until he leaned to the side and raised his eyebrows, looking somewhat more surprised than he did a moment ago. “You’re hiding two more kids back there.”

Lea grinned and sat up, extending his arm in a wide sweeping gesture as if he was an entertainer presenting something amazing. “This one’s Roxas and this one’s Xion.”

Xion saw Naminé’s head snap in Lea’s direction but did not move from where she stood, holding her notebook against her midriff with both arms crossed over it and her fingers tightening around its edges ever so slightly. It seemed Xion’s next action had been decided for her. So she took a deep breath and stood up.

Naminé’s eyes were so wide Xion thought she might trip and fall in. All of a sudden she was being pulled awkwardly over the couch and into the ( _very nice smelling_ ) cardigan of Naminé, head resting against her warm shoulder, fair hair and wool tickling her cheek. There was a butterfly migration happening in her stomach and no one in the room could see it--and though he said nothing, she thought she saw an amused glint in Lea’s narrowed eyes. _I’m going to have a cardiac episode,_ Xion thought. The embrace lasted for an all-too-short moment, but when she pulled away she gently took her hand.

“It’s really good to see you again,” Naminé breathed.

Any sour feelings Xion had harbored dissolved in the wake of the gentle smile of the girl who was now holding her hand over the back of the couch. _Like those two rocks, separated by an ocean, connected by a rope--no, no, no, no._ Xion moved so that she wasn’t obstructed by a giant piece of stuffed fabric and could stand directly in front of her. Her face hurt and she realized it was because she was grinning.

Naminé let go of Xion’s hand to gesture at her face. “You cut your hair.”

“I did.”

“I like it. It looks cute on you.”

  


The next hour or so passed strangely--conversation came so comfortably it was as if the year and a half of radio silence had never happened. They talked about school of course--what classes they were taking, who they ate lunch with, some bullshit their classmates tried to pull--but that was almost a formality. Xion talked about Lea and Roxas, and how she ended up moving in with Lea because he was the only one she knew to go to. Naminé mentioned moving from her parents’ house in Santa Rosa to live with cousins in Palo Alto.

By the second hour, Xion was hanging off the couch with her back on the floor and her legs resting on the cushions; Naminé sat with her legs weighing down Xion’s shins and she was saying something about how she only ever spent her SAT prep class doodling in the margins of the test prep book and how she was glad she did because now it didn’t matter that she never payed attention. At some point Lea had abandoned his perch to work on the furnace; Roxas was gone as well, so she assumed he must’ve left to keep Lea company. Aerith and Leon were still working on their respective laptops frozen in concentration, though Aerith still seemed to have a perpetually steaming cup of coffee in her lap somehow.  Terra was stationed at one of the larger monitors with Naminé’s notebook on his lap, which he glanced down at every so often and frowned when his gaze returned to his monitor. Xion could feel the blood pooling in her head but she was too tired to sit up so she alternated between staring at the undersides of Naminé and Aerith’s chins. She wondered idly how many cups of coffee was behind Aerith’s friendly disposition.

“So what’s with the laptops, really?” Xion mumbled from the floor, the sensation of blood in her head beginning to feel like TV static.

Aerith’s upside down smile looked strange. “Leon, Aqua, and I are making a database for people who are willing to offer their skills and services to help others and have already given their contact info. Like how Lea came to ask for medication because Aqua and I have access to it. Terra and Naminé are working on an app. And Aqua and Terra’s little brother is talented at finding bugs in code.”

“Naminé, you know how to make apps?”

“I mostly design the layouts while Terra does the coding,” Naminé explained. “I’d show you, but he’s got my notebook.”

“That’s so cool,” Xion said. It really was. Naminé was so cool. The TV static in her head was becoming intense; she tried to sit up but her stomach found this disagreeable. Again she cupped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut until the feeling went away.

Suddenly there was a metal banging sound ( _“Ow, fuck--”_ yelled a voice from somewhere in the house) followed by a rumbling, and then the furnace roared to life. An exclamatory _“Hell yeah”_ echoed out from the hallway, followed by Lea marching proudly into the living room with Roxas close behind him.

Terra shifted in his chair to face him. “You really fixed it! I don’t know how you ever learned how to fix a furnace, but I’m not gonna question it.”

Lea shrugged and rubbed the back of his head. “Learned how to jumpstart a car before I learned how to drive it. My dad used to be a handyman.”

“We all have our weird secrets, I guess.”  


Eventually Aqua returned with a grocery bag weighing heavy with orange pills bottles and multiple bottles of Nyquil, and she was wearing a few dead leaves in her hair. She shed her coat on a kitchen chair and noticing the roar of the furnace, said, “Lea, you really did fix the furnace!”

“Man was always a mystery,” Terra murmured, turning to sit sideways in his chair and motioning for Aqua to come nearer. When he whispered, “You have leaves in your hair,” she bowed and allowed him to pick them out.

“Aqua, you’ve gotta have weird secrets, too. You can’t just be a stand-up gal with good grades all the time,” Lea teased.

“Maybe this isn’t terribly weird, but she likes to make homebrew kombucha. But I suppose as a biology major, it’s not the strangest thing she’s ever put in the fridge,” Terra said.

“Kombucha, really? The fermented shit with boogers in it?”

“It’s not a booger, Lea; it’s a bacterial culture called the ‘mother,’ and it--”

“ _Please_ stop explaining kombucha to me.”

Aqua’s rolling laughter filled the room. Still on the floor with static in her head and Naminé’s legs pinning her own legs to the couch cushions, Xion felt warm. She felt incredibly lucid and yet outside of her body at the same time, but it passed when she finally managed to sit upright and noticed that it was dark outside. Roxas said something about needing to go home.

When Xion stood with Lea and Roxas in the foyer slipping on her shoes, Naminé hugged her goodbye--but in the midst of their embrace she felt her slip something in the pocket of her bomber jacket.

 

 

The drive home was quiet. Xion sat in the backseat curled into herself with her feet propped against the back of the passenger seat. When they reached Roxas’ house, the porchlight was on. The door opened before he reached it and Xion could see the silhouette of his brother in the doorway, reaching out to Roxas and pulling him into a hug. Xion felt something gnawing at her insides, making her feel hollow.

When Lea started the car again she unbuckled herself and wriggled her way into the passenger seat. A block or so down the road he pointed to her pocket, but didn’t look at her.

“Probably not my business, but you should already know I’m nosy as hell and I saw the cute blonde girl put something in your pocket.”

Xion fished out a folded piece of notebook paper with something hastily scrawled in pink highlighter. It took her a few moments to make out in the dark--written so that it took up the entire page was a phone number.

“Holy shit, a girl’s digits. Way to go, Xion.” He punched her shoulder playfully.

Xion held the piece of notebook paper delicately in her hands for the rest of the drive.

  


Somewhere around 3 AM, Xion crossed paths with Lea in the hallway on the way to the bathroom. He caught her by the shoulder and even though he didn’t need to whisper it because they were the only ones in the house and they were both awake, said, “Hey… I’m glad you found that friend of yours.” And then, even more quietly as he ambled back to his room, “You gotta hold onto her.”

Xion stood alone in the dark hallway for a while, just lacing and unlacing her fingers.

 

* * *

 

_The first time Xion met Roxas, he was crying._

_Lea had joined Xion for lunch in the practice room for the past month; at first, he only came on the days it was raining (which wasn’t terribly often), and then the days he complained it was too cold, and then the days he said something or other about avoiding someone, until eventually he was there nearly every day. Used to be in a band, he said, used to use to the band rooms to practice with a friend. That friend played keyboard; he was good at it, he said. He had another friend who he spent most of his time with since then, maybe he’d even call him his best friend.  Xion listened to him talk while she played the piano. He talked so much about everything, while revealing hardly anything about himself._

_One day (it was raining) Lea walked into the room with his arm over the shoulder of a boy whose hair was soaked with rainwater and cheeks stained with tear tracks. His face was twisted into a dark scowl. His eyes were severely bloodshot and the blue of his irises shone bright with fiery indignation under the shadow of his furrowed brows._

_He halted when he saw Xion and fought to remove himself from Lea’s arm. “There’s someone here already,” he hissed._

_“I know. I wanted you to meet my friend,” said Lea, pushing him inside and shutting the door behind them._

_“So I could cry in front of them? The fuck, Lea?”_

_“Calm down, Roxas. This is Xion.”_

_Roxas stopped fighting the arm slung around his shoulder and stood still. For a moment his face relaxed when he wiped his nose on of the sleeve of his jacket._

_“_ You’re _Roxas,” Xion said to him. “It’s nice to meet finally meet you.”_

_“Oh. Lea talks about you sometimes, too.”_

_“Great! Now you’re both acquainted,” Lea interrupted. “I’m gonna get you some cookies from the a-la-carte line. Be right back.”_

_Being left alone with the friend of a friend was possibly one of the most uncomfortable social experiences to ever exist. Maybe worse than with a complete stranger, who did not already have a version of you in their head. They wouldn’t sit quietly at the other end of the room, lining up the real you and the projection of you in their mind. Xion supposed the Roxas in her head didn’t match the Roxas in the room (who was now sitting on the floor with his back resting against a pile of backpacks, staring blankly at the ground with his legs straight out in front of him in his despondence) but she supposed that hardly anyone in life ever matched her idea of them anyhow. She might have imagined him closer to Lea’s age and maybe with a similar flavor of dress, but he had no piercings and no makeup and wore nothing more conspicuous than a flannel over a plain tee-shirt and jeans that looked a size too large. There were tears still rolling down his cheeks, but he made no effort to wipe them away._

_Xion sat stiffly at the piano with her thermos eating slowly and trying to keep herself from crunching too loudly on the lotus root. This went on for an agonizing few minutes--Roxas on the floor staring at his shoes, Xion trying her damndest to subdue her eating noises--before Roxas broke the silence._

_“You play?” He pointed behind her to the piano._

_“Uh, yeah, a little.”_

_“What kind of stuff can you play?”_

_“Classical, mostly.”_

_“Know anything else?”_

_“Just some depressing piano stuff.”_

_Roxas’ eyebrows lifted ever slightly. Xion took it to mean that he wanted her to play something, so she shuffled through her mental sheet music book until she found something she liked. Something contemporary that her piano teacher hated and never let her play. (Not complicated enough, too simple and repetitive. Not classical, so it was trash.) Her piano teacher was an idiot; maybe she should go back in time and join Lea’s band, so she could run away and become their second keyboardist._

_After a few moments Xion heard a hum of approval. “I like it,” sighed Roxas as he shifted so he could lie down with his head on the pile of backpacks._

_“Would you believe this song is called ‘Monday?” She succeeded in eliciting a light chuckle from him, and then a few sniffles._

_A few more moments passed before Roxas spoke again. “I got into a fight with someone,” he started in a low voice. “They said something awful about my brother, so I punched them. And then my brother got mad at me for punching someone.”_

_“You didn’t have to tell me,” Xion said._

_“Listen, then you’d just wonder forever why the fuck I was crying and I don’t like the idea of someone thinking about my personal business that much. And you don’t seem like someone who would go around telling the entire school I punched someone and_ I _was the one who cried.”_

_“You defended your brother; that’s noble. Anything that comes after is whatever. If you cried it just means that you felt passionate about it.” From the corner of her eye Xion could see Roxas crack a tiny smile, though his eyelids were so swollen it looked like he was just squinting._

_Lea was three years their senior. The difference between upperclassmen and the freshmen was that, at some point, you become able to internalize your problems. That didn’t mean they went away, just that you could digest them. There was an invisible line that you don’t know you’ve crossed until it’s happened, when you look back and think, “Oh, I was such an idiot; why did I do that? I’d never do that now.” Xion could tell it had already happened to Lea--he was nihilistic and sarcastic, but she’d never seen anything raw and unprocessed show on his face.  But for her, every emotion was too overwhelming and spilled out unchannelled--and she knew that Roxas was the same._

_So she realized, as she played the piano and Roxas lay on the floor listening and sniffling, that she felt some sort of kinship. A sort of connection she’d felt maybe once before beginning to thread itself between them. She’d thought that Roxas was almost directly opposite to her who stowed away in the back of the school and played sad piano songs, but when she saw the the indignance burning in his eyes she also saw her own reflection._

_Lea eventually returned with the promised cookies. When he closed the door behind him he paused and rubbed the back of his head with an entertained grin on his face, looking at the figure curled against the pile of backpacks with fond eyes._

_“Roxas fell asleep.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Point Sometimes -- Gregory and the Hawk
> 
> I told you Roxas cries.
> 
> Gymnopedie No.1 - Erik Satie  
> Monday - Ludovico Einaudi


	5. A Hazy Shade of Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But if your hopes should pass away  
> Simply pretend that you can build them again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this far, I'm seriously incredibly flattered, thank you so much. It's so fun to read comments. I probably won't be posting chapters nearly as often as I've been doing from here on out, because life is hectic and happens really fast. But I still have a number of chapters waiting to be posted, so don't worry!
> 
> Warning for dissociative episode in this chapter.

Kairi was sick. It was just a cold, Riku said, but it had been three days since Roxas had brought home a grocery bag filled to the brim with medicine and she had already downed one and a half of the five bottles of Nyquil generously provided by Lea’s friend.

A cold was a cold, but paranoia crept in from the shadows of Sora’s mind. What if it wasn't just a cold? What if it was something that they could have easily treated two months ago, but couldn’t now? What if her coughing was whooping cough? What if her sore throat was Strep?

Their biggest problem at the moment was that she refused to rest. She was out in the backyard in the morning with the tool box and soldering iron and a few large barrels, working on whatever it was that she was so set on finishing for hours. In the afternoon she searched for supplies, fetching and setting up a generator gathering dust in the storage shed, collecting flashlights and batteries, and polishing knives. In the evening she continued to assign herself cooking duties. She was prolonging her cold, Riku said. So at some point, he picked her up and dumped her in bed and told her to stay there, and that he’d make her soup.

Kairi only cooked because she had to, and she was more skilled at it than Sora and Roxas. But Riku was the real chef. He always said he only started cooking because in middle school having cooking as his mandatory elective meant that he got free food every day, and it was better than being in band. Sora knew he was just being humble. He’d made an endless slew of canned and dried goods taste like something he would have willingly put in his mouth, two months ago, before he started having to.

“I’ve been saving these,” Riku said, placing a few bags of frozen vegetables and a box of pasta on the kitchen counter, “For a special occasion, to make chicken noodle soup. I like making it completely from scratch but this is the best I’ve got at the moment. And it doesn’t have chicken, either, so I guess it’s just vegetable soup now.”

“Kairi’ll appreciate it anyway,” Sora said. “You’re a good friend.” He was itching to check on her, but if she finally managed to fall asleep he didn’t want to rouse her. He had not heard her cough echoing from the bedroom in a while; he took that as a good sign.

Riku had his hair in a ponytail, but this time he’d pulled his bangs all the way back and out of his face. Sora leaned over the counter, watching him work. Riku’s light eyes occasionally caught the glint of the vegetable knife reflecting the sunlight through the kitchen window. When he’d gotten all ingredients in one pot and pulled the lid over it to let it simmer, Riku sat himself in a kitchen chair while Sora paced circles in the living room. They were silent for a while until he heard Riku let out a tired sigh.

“It’s just a cold, Sora. When did you start being the worrywart?”

“But--”

“ _But_ you have to make sure she sleeps, and it won’t be anything else.” He leaned back in his chair and extended his arm to catch Sora’s hand as he passed him by. Then he stood, sighed again, and tugged him back into the kitchen. “C’mon.”

The blinds in Kairi’s room were pulled low, the pale winter sun spilling onto her bed in pinstripes. She lay on her back, blankets pulled up to her collarbones, auburn hair spread out behind her head, brows knit together in an expression of discomfort even in her sleep. Balled up tissue paper littered the surface of her blankets. When Sora placed a hand on her forehead she woke with a cough that shook her entire body, and he felt guilty for waking her.

“Riku made you soup.”

She tried to say “thanks” but was interrupted with more coughing as she tried to take the bowl from Riku’s hands. Sora sat down next to her at the edge of the bed, tentatively rubbing her back until her fit passed. When she was still again, she held the bowl in her lap for a moment as if she expected another fit, and when it didn’t come she hunched over and ate it quickly without flinching at the temperature.

“Jesus, Kairi, take your time….? There’s still more if you want it,” Riku told her. Kairi nodded as she returned the empty bowl to him.

When Riku left the room, Sora continued to sit at the edge of her bed. Kairi’s eyes seemed greyer and she had dark bags under her swollen eyelids. The spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose stood out against her pale face. She lay back against the pillow with her face away from him and began to quake again, but she made no sound. It took Sora a moment to realize that she was crying.

“Kairi, what’s wrong?”

“It’s only… It’s just that… I guess I’m just scared.”

“You’re just a little sick, Kairi, it’s all right.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She turned her head to look up at him, disquiet muddling her expression. “This entire time. I don’t know what to do.”

Sora couldn’t find anything to say in response, so he just brushed away the hair that had fallen across her face.

“And--” Another coughing fit interrupted her sentence. “--There’s so much that needs to be done,” she continued, wiping her watering eyes. “It’s late in the year and I need to finish building the rain barrel before it actually starts raining. But all I want… is to build a raft and sail away somewhere.”

“I could help you build a raft.”

“You couldn’t build _shit._ ” Kairi choked out a laugh and grinned through her tears.

“You’re right.” Sora smiled back at her. “But Kairi. It’s not your job to worry. Please.” He wanted to tell her it was all going to be okay. But he wasn’t sure whether he believed it.

They heard footsteps approaching the door. Kairi hurriedly wiped the rest of the tears from her eyes before Riku entered with a second bowl of soup. She reached up for it, managing to thank him without coughing, and held it delicately in her lap.

“You can just leave the bowl on the nightstand when you’re done eating and I’ll come get it,” Riku said. “Sora, get off the bed and let her go back to sleep.”

Sora reluctantly slipped off the bed and straightened the blankets under where he’d been sitting. He began to lean down to peck her on the cheek, but Kairi quickly slapped hand over his mouth.

“If you kiss me and get sick, I’ll kill you,” she hissed.

Sora pursed his lips under her palm and blew a raspberry, eliciting a yelp of surprise from the hand’s owner. “‘Night, Kairi!” He made a show of skipping out of the bedroom, but when he reached the living room he let himself flop face-first onto the couch and groaned into the cushions. He heard Riku sigh somewhere above him, and then a pair of hands slip under his arms and sit him upright.

“What’s with you?” said Riku, squeezing himself between Sora and the arm of the couch.

“She was crying before you came back in.”

“Kairi crying for once, and not you? She alright?”

“The day’s not over yet. I might still cry.” Riku felt warm and comfortable next to him and Sora was tired, so he let himself lean into his side. “I don’t think it’s anything that the rest of us haven’t already been dealing with. Being stuck in bed just means that her anxiety has nowhere to go, I guess.”

Riku slung an arm over Sora’s shoulder. When he lifted his arm his shirt rode up just slightly so that Sora could see his stomach and the faded relief of stretch marks Riku had gotten during a growth spurt when he was fifteen and had shot up like a bean sprout practically overnight. Now with his head in closer proximity to his chest, Sora felt the vibration of Riku’s hum, the one that meant he was listening. 

The house was quiet save for the faint sound of Kairi coughing in the bedroom. Roxas had left earlier--probably to seek out his own friends. In their solitude, despite Kairi’s illness working his nerves, Sora let himself relax into the small sense of satisfaction that Riku had pulled him closer.

 

* * *

 

Sora woke sometime in the middle of the night. What time it was, he didn’t know, because he had been startled the sound of raucous shouting and shattering glass coming from outside and didn’t think to check. He bolted out of bed--leaving Roxas to paw drowsily at the empty space next to him--and stumbled to the window that faced the street.

“Sora, what--”

He parted the blinds slightly with his fingers and peeked outside. Moseying down the middle of the street was an uncomfortably large group of teenage boys, and they were laughing and yelling in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Sora noticed that some of them carried baseball bats just as he witnessed one of them swing a bat through the window of a car parked across the street.

Opening the door to their room revealed the concerned face of Riku. His long hair was disheveled and sticking up in strange places, but Sora didn’t have the time to tease him about it. “I was just coming to make sure you guys were alright. What the fuck is happening out there?”

“Assholes,” Roxas hissed from behind Sora.

There was another crash from outside, obnoxious cheering, and under it all, much quieter than the rest--coughing. He opened the front door to find Kairi--still in her flannel pajamas but with her feet bare--sitting on the step. Whether she was trembling because she was cold, frightened, or because she was trying to suppress her coughing, Sora couldn’t tell. Her eyes stared blankly ahead and she appeared to be mouthing something to herself. Her pocket knife was laid across her lap, one hand over the handle, the other slowly thumbing the blunt edge of the blade.

This was not the face of Kairi the fifth-grader who sat out at soccer games with her elbows on her knees and a passionate fire in her eyes for deliberately kicking other players hard in the shins, nor was it the middle-schooler Kairi who had convinced Sora to sneak away from their parents’ campsite at Big Sur and explore a deer trail only to come face-to-face with a coyote—which she chased away by waving her arms and singing “happy birthday” at the top of her lungs and burst into tears immediately afterwards. Sora did not recognize this face.

_“I dare you to come closer. I dare you.”_

He realized these were the words her lips were forming, a challenge the group across the street were boldly disobeying. They weren’t like the lone coyote at Big Sur; they couldn’t be easily chased away with a birthday ballad. He did not want to bear witness to whatever scene would go down between Kairi and the unwelcome company.

“Please come back inside,” Sora whispered. She continued to stare ahead without making any sound of acknowledgement. “Please,” he said again.

“I can’t.” Her voice was hollow with a fear that had long been etched into her soul.

Sora caught the glint of her pocket knife reflecting the light from the cracked doorway, behind the shadow of Riku. Sora hovered over her shoulder and tentatively placed a hand on her back, hoping the gesture felt reassuring. They stayed that way for a while without moving; the boys continued along the opposite side of the street--unaware of the figure on the step who had been completely prepared to shank them had they threatened the safety of their household--until they disappeared around a corner. And then with a shaky exhale, Kairi stood and ambled slowly back into the house and into her room without another word. Riku was still in the doorway, his face obscured by shadow. Sora stared at him through the darkness.

_Not ‘just a cold.’_

Sora dreamt about a redwood tree he’d seen at his week at outdoor school in fifth-grade. A fire had once burned inside it and left its insides hollow. It was far too large for him to wrap his arms around, but he had hugged it just for the love of it anyway.

 

* * *

 

Sora was up almost an hour before the sun rose, and Kairi was still asleep. Riku--a light sleeper and awoken by Sora’s footsteps--blinked at him sleepily from his bed on the couch, and then blinked again with a significantly more puzzled expression as if the commotion last night had caused a spell to befall them à la Freaky Friday (and then Sora had the passing thought that if he was Kairi for a day, he’d finally be able to beat her at an arm wrestling match.) Because Roxas usually slept at least as late as Sora did, they were once again together in solitude.

At some point Sora shuffled out into the backyard where there sat two fruit trees: an orange tree and a persimmon tree. They were both in season and Sora had made a routine of ambling into the backyard and picking an orange or two off the tree for breakfast. He figured he was going to get very tired of oranges very soon, but at the very least he wouldn’t be in any danger of scurvy. He was surprised that Riku, who preferred persimmons, picked himself a single orange as he flashed him a grin.

Back inside, Riku was making somewhat of a commotion pulling cookware out from the cabinet above the oven, grunting and setting pots and pans aside on the kitchen tile when it didn’t seem to be what he was looking for, and that collection was quickly growing. He made a grunt of approval when he retrieved a tin from the farthest reaches of the cabinet, and there came a cacophony of noise when he shoved the cookware he’d surrounded himself back into the cabinet.

“What are you doing?” Sora asked him, peering over his shoulder.

Riku was shuffling items around in a different cabinet now. “Making breakfast,” he said, setting a rather heavy bag of flour on the stovetop.

“You’ve never made breakfast before.”

“Well, I’m doing it now,” he said, placing a few more ingredients on the stovetop. “These are probably about to expire, and... well, just wait and see.”

Sora watched him as he munched on an orange, leaning with his elbow on the kitchen table and a fist under his chin, one foot behind the other, rear in the air. At some point, he saw Riku grate the peel of his orange into a zest before placing the shaved fruit in front of him on the table. The zest went into a mixing bowl and the bowl’s contents were poured into a muffin tin, and then it all went into the oven. Riku stared at the pastries through the oven window with his head tilted slightly to the side before turning back to clean the mess of flour and miscellaneous leavening ingredients off the stove. Sora wet a sponge under the tap to help him clean, and opened his mouth to ask him about why he was suddenly making muffins before Riku interrupted him.

“Y’know,” he began, drying the stovetop with a towel in big sweeps, “The power really would’ve shut off within a day of not being maintained, but it’s been on this entire time without us having to use the generator. And we still have water, too. I guess that must mean there are still people working to keep it all running, but…” Riku paused for a moment to stare at his hand. “...Some part of me wants to feel like we’re being watched out for. Does that sound stupid?”

“It’s not stupid,” Sora said.

Riku hummed and finished drying the stovetop, a shy smile forming on his lips. Sora suddenly wanted to wrap his arms around him and squeeze him tight. That wasn’t uncommon--it was easier to count the times he _didn’t_ feel like hugging Riku. Usually, he acted on the feeling, but there was something about this particular inclination that felt significant. So he kept the feeling to himself.

The aroma of muffins summoned Roxas, who stumbled into the kitchen with his eyelashes glued together with sleep. He rubbed at his face, eyed the oven, opened his eyes as wide as they would go and said, “You made muffins?”

“They’ll be a little bit longer,” Riku informed him.

So Roxas sat himself at his usual spot at the kitchen table and tapped at his phone while he leaned back in his chair with his feet propped on an adjacent chair. “Sora, come here, look--” he held up his phone. “Lea’s friends finally launched the app they were working on, and it’s up in the App Store and everything, so you can download it.”

“What is it?”

“It’s like a sort of neighborhood forum. It doesn’t show your location but it uses it to show posts from people in a certain radius, and you can do stuff like… well say you’re in trouble or something, or you really need supplies you can’t get, you make a post about it and people nearby who can help you respond. Or you can offer stuff and services. I think, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“So… like Craigslist?” Riku mumbled.

“Not like Craigslist, it’s different--okay, it’s kind of like Craigslist but it’s different. I dunno. Just download it.” Roxas ran his hands through his hair, somewhat exasperated.

Sora pulled his phone from his pocket and installed the app in question. It wasn’t actually like Craigslist; for one, it seemed intuitive and the colors were fun and welcoming. It didn’t make him feel like he was exploring a deeply unconsecrated space. He pereused it for a few minutes before saying, “Hey, we have stuff we can offer, right? I wanna figure out how this app works in practice. What should I put?”

“Willing to trade a shitton of oranges for literally anything else, but preferably food,” said Riku.

Sora laughed as he complied with Riku’s suggestion (though he decided to word it in a more family-friendly matter.)

“‘Morning,” said a voice from behind them. It was Kairi, whose eyes were bright and her face full of color, and her voice was chipper despite still being somewhat phlegmy. The bags under her eyes didn’t seem so dark anymore. “You’re making muffins?”

“Mhm.” Riku retrieved the muffins from the oven and flipped the tin over a large plate, careful not to let them fall apart as he removed them from the tin. He set the plate on the table closest to where Kairi was standing.

“Orange muffins are my favorite,” she said with a wide grin, eyes crinkling in delight.

In seventh-grade, Sora had once mentioned off-handedly that he’d been craving a soda in a flavor that was difficult to find, and that he checked the refrigerator at the nearest grocery store every time he made a trip there after school to buy a box of cherry turnovers with his own money (which was about every other week, and he paid for the baked goods in quarters.) Three weeks later--long after Sora had forgotten he’d ever brought in up--Riku had shown up at their lunch spot and presented to him the soda in the flavor he could never find. He’d hardly said anything more about it than, “You said you like this, right?” though he’d teased him by pressing the cold can against a bare spot on his neck before letting him take it. That’s the way he was sometimes.

So Kairi must have told Riku at some point that she loved orange muffins. Maybe it was years ago, maybe it was days ago; Sora never knew how many small tidbits of information were shuffled away in his mind, or how long he kept them there, just to do something like make Kairi’s favorite muffins. To make life a little less miserable. Sora felt the feeling from before bubbling up in his chest again.

“You sound better,” Sora told Kairi.

“Mhmph,” she said, in the middle of taking a large bite of muffin. She was still in her pajamas (the flannel ones with the pine tree print) and her hair was sticking up a little in the back. Sora thought that if she’d brushed her hair, the image of her shoving baked goods in her face in front of the window at the kitchen table could be in an L.L. Bean magazine. “I’m going back to bed soon, though,” she said when she was finally able to speak. “The rain barrels can wait a day. I’m going to read a book instead.”

“As long as you’re feeling okay.” _Do you remember what you did last night?_

He noticed Riku giving him a sidelong glance and a slight nod towards Kairi while she wasn’t looking. It had been on his mind since he’d woken up, but he wasn’t prepared to bring it up while she appeared to be a lot less miserable than she’d been the night before, and most of all, lucid. He waved his hand from side to side to signal to Riku that he shouldn’t bring it up, either.

Kairi wrapped up a couple muffins in a paper towel and said she was taking them back to her room before disappearing from the kitchen. Sora snatched one of the remaining muffins for himself before Roxas could attempt to stuff them all in his cheeks at once and retreated to the backyard to eat it.

He stood under the awning and ate the muffin as slowly as he could force himself. He pictured a younger Kairi at the kitchen table and tried to fill in the shapeless figure of the person who used to make orange muffins for her in his mind, and wondered if Riku’s matched up in taste. The image of Riku from earlier--with his hair pulled back and sleeves rolled up, mixing bowl in hand--slipped into his thoughts at some point and wouldn’t leave. They were both images of domesticity but they made him feel two very different ways. _Hm. What did Riku substitute for eggs?_

 

* * *

 

The creek was completely dry now. Sora expected rain to fill it soon, but for now he was pleased because it was easier to traverse this way and he did not have to carry his shoes over his shoulder while his toes went completely numb in the water when he came across sections where he could not just hop across the rocks. He planned to check the rabbit snares he’d set earlier. This time he was accompanied by Riku and it put him in a good mood. His body felt light and he couldn’t help bouncing on his toes and kicking up rocks in front of him. Riku, who was decidedly less energetic, just shuffled along behind him.

Sora had set the snares in the sandier areas of the creek where he’d seen rabbits dash about the brambles. He assumed they were at about half-mile intervals, but it was difficult to tell when the creek wound wildly northward all the way to the bay. He memorized the landmarks that told him just about how far he’d gone and how long it would take him to get back. The rope swing was only fifteen minutes from the entrance where they slid down the side of the steep bank. The spot under the overpass that was always filled with a large pool of still water choked with weeds and algae was only another fifteen minutes from that, and so on and so forth. He’d set the snares all the way past the thrones carved out of a block of concrete to the maw of large tunnel which was probably just the entrance to a storm drain; it was about an hour and a half from where they started.

So far they’d had no luck. Most of the snares were untouched, but a couple of them appeared to have been tripped and yet they had caught no rabbit. Still, it hadn’t really dampened Sora’s mood; he simply reset them and planned to check them again in a couple more days. It was a bit easier to stomach the disappointment when he wasn’t alone.

On the return trip, the dark mouth of the storm drain yawned ominously. He walked a little faster and glanced at it only from the corner of his eye just to make sure that nothing was going to come out of it and chase them. He swore he could hear it moaning. _It’s just the afternoon breeze going through it_ , he told himself, still not fully convinced. He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt his phone buzz suddenly in his pocket.

“Hey, what’s up?” Riku was trying to keep himself from laughing but it showed on his face as an awkward smirk.

“Uh, it’s not even a text, it’s a private message from the app Roxas made me download.”

“Hmm, maybe we got an offer on our abundance of oranges. Is this what Animal Crossing is about?”

“The fuck.”

“Wow, rude--”

“No, Riku, look at this.” Sora shoved his phone under Riku’s nose and watched his face twist in perplexion.

“The fuck,” he said.

The message in Sora’s inbox read as such:

 

> _lizardsnakesnakelizard lizardsnakelizardlizard lizard lizardsnake lizardlizardlizard lizard tree lizardlizardlizardlizard lizard lizardsnakelizardlizard lizard lizardsnakesnakelizard lizardsnakelizardsnakelizardsnake tree lizardlizard lizard snakesnakesnakesnakelizard snakesnake tree lizardlizardlizard lizardlizard snakelizardsnakelizard snakelizardsnake_

 

“That has to be a joke. Somehow it’s a lot less entertaining than life turning into Animal Crossing,” Riku sighed.

“Why though?”

“Maybe for the same reason those kids went around smashing the windows of empty houses last night. Just to cause chaos.”

“How’s this for chaos,” Sora said as he kicked up the ground, spraying Riku’s shins with pebbles.

“Three out of ten, you’ll have to do better than that.” Riku kicked up a few larger rocks, aiming them for Sora’s calves, though the last one ended up hitting him square in the ankle and caused him to leap up with a yelp.

“Ow! Riku!”

But he was laughing, and Sora was laughing, and they were still kicking pebbles at each other and Riku was saying “Let’s see you dance, cowboy!” in a silly voice. Sora hadn’t felt so light in ages; by the time they reached the overpass with the pool of still water choked with reeds and algae their faces were red and their breaths were ragged. Beyond the pool was a large pile of boulders which required them to climb. Riku made his way to the top first and extended a hand to Sora to help him up the rest of the way.

Sora spotted something curious up ahead he didn’t remember seeing on their way down: hidden within the brambles of a winter-bare blackberry bush was a half decayed grey fox. He felt himself gasp quietly--partly it was because predators always elicited that reaction from him, but partly it was because its state of decay had plunged it further into an uncanny existence.

“Pretty, but kind of gross,” he heard Riku breathe from over his shoulder.

“...Sounds like how you look in the morning.”

“Oh, _you’re_ one to talk.”

They left the fox in the blackberry bush. Sora could feel its eyeless face burning holes in his back the entire way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Hazy Shade of Winter -- Simon and Garfunkel 
> 
> Just because. 
> 
> My first year of college was the first time I've ever been away from home for so long and only my second time on the East Coast. Getting sick made me feel completely terrified and vulnerable because I didn't have my mom to make sure I wasn't dying. I guess I passed that anxiety onto Kairi by accident. Sorry, Kairi.


	6. Season Poem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piles of our thoughts run miles in the dark  
> Just trying to get home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The day after I had surgery for the first time I kept demanding Jamba Juice. I was hopelessly high and it was all I wanted. (I did in fact get my Jamba Juice.) When I went back to school I found out they had closed all the Jamba Juices in Manhattan. This chapter contains only a brief mention of Jamba Juice and has nothing to do with my super high Jamba Juice journey.

In the shadow of Hoover Tower, time passed slowly. It was just as well for Xion. The campus around her was not exactly bustling, but it was still surprisingly lively. Well, it was the largest number of people she had seen in one place in a while, at least. Astride the main quad rode ex-students on bicycles, or walking briskly, and hardly ever just lingering.

It hadn’t taken much convincing for Lea to take her back to Palo Alto; apparently Aqua was cashing in whatever favors he’d owed her since high school by having him help her carry supplies across facilities and putting his freakish inherited handyman skills to use by checking miscellaneous equipment. He was less enthusiastic about the fact that it was a twenty minute drive from their house and costed gas, which was now a more finite resource than ever, and he’d already spent a significant portion of his free time making himself ill siphoning it from the abandoned cars parked around townhouse complex. But they went anyway, and Xion got the feeling that Lea was intimidated by Aqua on some level.

Not far from main quad was a path which ran alongside a lawn where Xion was coaching Naminé on Roxas’ skateboard. Xion herself was not much more skilled than being able to stand on it without falling off, so it was really less “coaching” than it was Xion supporting Naminé’s back with one hand and holding her hand with the other while she half pushed, half tugged her along the pathway like a kind of awkward waltz for people who listened to punk rock. 

Naminé stumbled backwards suddenly, sending the skateboard rolling down the pathway while Xion caught her sloppily under her arm, but it caused the tote bag she had been carrying over her shoulder to slide down her wrist and spill on the lawn.

“Are you two having fun? ‘Cause I’m not.” Lea appeared in front of them, the skateboard resting in place under his foot. Xion hadn’t noticed him approaching. He was carrying a couple tote bags under his own arms which were bulky with books, and he was slouching forward slightly under their weight.

“How’s it going?” Xion didn’t hide her amused grin.

“Just amazing!” His sarcastic hand gesture was limited by the weight of the books. “Does it look like lugging heavy stuff is within my skillset? Why’s Aqua got me doing this stuff when she’s got that super buff brother of hers!”

“You know, Lea, I don’t know her as well as you do but I’m almost sure she’s just fucking with you at this point,” she said. She heard Naminé muffling a light giggle with her fist.

“I wish she’d just beat me up. It’d be easier.” Lea rolled the skateboard back toward Xion. “See you guys later.” He continued on his way, still slouched forward as he walked.

Xion watched Naminé crouch on the lawn and shove a notepad and card deck into her tote bag before slipping it back over her shoulder. Feeling a bit bored now, Xion gestured at the totebag and asked, “What kind of card games do you know how to play?”

“What? Oh.” Naminé retrieved the deck and held it out in front of her to reveal that it was in fact not playing cards. “These are just tarot cards.”

“Do you play games with them?”

Naminé giggled. “No, these are for divination.”

“Oh.” Xion felt her face flush slightly with embarrassment. Of course, her first reaction to being embarrassed was to embarrass herself further with humor. “Are you, perhaps, some kind of witch?”

“Perhaps.” Naminé was grinning, but her voice was strangely serious. 

“Mind if I ask how it works?”

“Here. I’ll show you.” She sat on the lawn and began to shuffle the deck with mesmerizing expertise. “This reading is easy; it only requires one card. Think of a question, but don’t make it too complicated. A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question will work.”

“Okay. What should we eat for lunch?”

Naminé’s laugh was gentle and it made something in Xion’s stomach flutter. “It’s unconventional, but I’ll make it work,” she said. She lay down a single card in front of her. It was a drawing of a man holding a cup with a fish leaping out of it. He looked pretty happy about the fish being in his cup. “The Page of Cups. It usually means a happy surprise of some kind. It’s also associated with intuition and the inner child.”

“So what’s the verdict?”

“Chicken nuggets.”

Xion’s laughter came out as more of a wheeze and she found herself on her side in the grass, clutching her stomach. She saw Naminé giggling with her fist to her mouth and her face all red, the sun behind her head casting it in shadow.  _ Oh, I adore you.  _

Xion wasn’t entirely sure whether she’d said it out loud. Of course, she knew it already; but she’d known it as a shapeless thought, and now it had words that she could blurt out and ruin absolutely everything. For a second, she was mortified that she did. But Naminé was still laughing, her face was still friendly, her eyes were still gentle. Xion could keep it that way.

  
  
  


They’d reached the point of the afternoon where it wasn’t necessarily late, but the sun was already threatening to set. Somewhere out across the quad a family of deer were wandering, pausing every so often to bow their heads and chew on the dry grass. 

Xion strolled with Roxas’ skateboard tucked safely under her arm and watched her shadow making strange shapes on the grass as they walked. Her stomach grumbled and she wished they’d been able to indulge in Naminé’s lunchtime divination. And then she started missing the Jamba Juice location that used to be on campus, and god if she could have a Strawberry Surf-Rider right now she would never ask for anything else in her life. 

“Oh, I’ve thought of another question,” said Xion, just to take her mind off her stomach. “Terra is Aqua’s brother? They don’t look anything alike.”

“I don’t need the cards to answer that one. They’re adopted, both of them.”

“Oh.”

Xion tried to picture having a sibling. She was an only child and she had no first cousins, so she couldn’t picture it very well. She figured it was probably something close to what living with Lea was like. There were times she became frustrated with him, because he’d eat snacks she’d been saving for herself and took books from her room without asking and smoked too much and always left the toilet seat up with absolutely no shame in any of it. He put her in a headlock way too often and punched her shoulders a little too hard and--well, this one wasn’t really his fault, but his bones jut out and it hurt her when she hugged him. And yet, no matter how irritated she got with him she never once felt that she wanted him out of her life. Even though it had been a few days since she’d cut up her feet, she still kept the gauze Lea had wrapped around them.

“And then there’s Ven--he’s a lot younger--he’s not related to either of them.”

Xion thought there was something a lot more complicated behind what Naminé was telling her, but it probably wasn’t a story she’d ever get to hear. Aqua and Terra didn’t seem the type to go disclosing their personal business to just anyone, and she hadn’t met Ven so she wasn’t sure if he was just as reserved as they were. She only knew Ven by name; in the short time she’d been around them, Terra and Aqua spoke about him constantly. 

Talking about Aqua seemed to have summoned her because as they reached the gate to the main quad, they found her walking towards them with Lea at her side. She was wearing the navy blue peacoat with leggings again, but appeared a little more dressed up than the last time she’d seen her with the addition of black boots and opal earrings which dangled neatly beside her jawbone. She looked tired.

“Hi, you two,” she said when they came closer. Even her voice sounded tired. “Terra and I are about ready to go home, so I won’t keep you any longer. We’ll give you a ride home, Naminé.”

“Thanks. You should bring Ven next time, so Xion can meet him.”

“Of course. I asked him this morning if he wanted to come, but he said he wanted to sleep more. But next time we’ll bring him for sure. He’ll like you.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Is Aqua okay?” Xion asked Lea on the drive home. “She looked really tired.”

Lea lifted one hand off the steering wheel to rub the back of his head through his mane of hair and sighed. “I’m never really sure. She’s kind of always been like that.”

“Maybe she’s getting sick?”

“Could be. Rox said Kairi’s been pretty sick the past few days.” And then after a beat, “Roxas’ brother’s friend--the other one living with them,” he clarified when Xion gave him a blank look.

_ Oh, Kairi. The one with the cute freckles. _ She wondered if they were happy about living together, the way Aqua and her brothers were. She wondered if they were happy to be friends or if they called each other something else. The hollow feeling from the other night when they’d taken Roxas home made itself known again. It hurt in her bones, and her muscles, and probably her spleen, but she couldn’t tell.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think,” said Roxas, with one foot planted firmly in the middle of his skateboard and the other tapping at the back end so that the front wheels repeatedly lifted up and came down with a clattering onto the asphalt, “That maybe we actually all died and now we’re ghosts?”

Xion walked alongside him in the bicycle lane with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her bomber jacket. “How come?”

“You know how ghosts tend to haunt the places they’ve died? It’s just that we could go almost anywhere we want to, but we still stay here like we’re haunting our own houses.”

“I didn’t stay in my own house. Riku and Kairi didn’t stay in their own houses.”

“Maybe that means you died at Lea’s house, and Riku and Kairi died at my house. But still, what’s stopping us from just… going wherever we want? We could go live in a rich person’s house in like, Carmel or Hollywood or something.” 

“Uh, well. I guess the thing that’s stopping us is the fact that we can’t drive.”

“Not us, but Lea knows how to drive, and Riku, and Terra and Aqua. Stop poking holes in my thoughts, Xion.”

“Fine, Roxas, you can go to Carmel or whatever and go golfing by yourself at Pebble Beach. Being a ghost is not stopping you.”

Most of the houses across the street from Roxas’ house had broken windows. A lot of the cars sitting out in front of them had been smashed in as well. With the days growing colder and more leaves on the ground than on the trees, it all gave the scene an appropriately post-apocalyptic feel as they wandered slowly down the street.

They were silent for a while before Roxas said in a low voice, “Kairi had some sort of freakout the other night. And I don’t think she remembers it.” He kicked his skateboard into the air and caught it with one hand. He tucked it safely under his arm and slowed to match Xion’s pace. 

“Is she alright?”

“The weirdest part was that she was super cheery the next morning. She slept in and then she went back to bed and didn’t do anything for the rest of the day. Although, she ate about seven muffins at once... which I’ve seen her do before. So I guess that was the normal Kairi. But the night before, she doesn’t remember it. It’s like she became a completely different person.”

“Lea mentioned that she got sick. Could that be it?”

“But she has a cold. A really nasty cold, but no fever or anything.” He let out a sigh, staring at his feet while he walked. “It made Sora really upset. I dunno, that night was scary for a lot of reasons.” 

For a while there was just the shuffle of their feet on the ground with the occasional crunch of leaves and the sound of crows flying overhead, calling out to each other that it was time to go home. She supposed Roxas felt that it was too quiet because he pulled out his phone from one pocket and a pair of earbuds from another, offering her one earbud as he plugged the other end into the headphone jack.

“What do you wanna listen to?” He asked.

“You choose.”

Roxas chose something by The Antlers. He looped one arm around hers--which was still shoved into the pocket of her jacket--and they walked as close to middle of the street as they dared to get. 

“Hey, let’s talk about that Naminé girl and how I watched you nearly have a heart attack in front of her.”

“Oh my god. Roxas, I swear, if a car comes along right now I am going to push you in front of it.”

“She gave you her  _ number. _ ”

“Did Lea tell you that? I’m going to push him in front of a car, too.”

“ _ You _ told me that.”

Xion huffed a bit. “I met her at tech camp a couple years ago, she never called me, and I never expected that I’d see her again.”

Roxas opened his mouth like he meant to say something but couldn’t seem to decide what, so he closed it again. Xion tilted her head and gave him a shrug.

“Yeah, I know, it feels like something I would’ve talked about before,” she said. “It was--she was maybe--we just  _ clicked _ . I’m terrible at making friends, and she became the closest friend I’d ever had in two days.”

She could feel the vibration of Roxas’ hum through her shoulder.

“When she didn’t keep in touch, I thought I’d just misunderstood it all.”

“Aw, Xion…” Roxas took the earbud out of his ear. “I’m sorry. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. If Naminé couldn’t see that, well...” He said, furrowing his brows as he trailed off.

“Thanks.”

Her stomach felt sour. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season Poem -- Gregory and the Hawk
> 
> I just really wanted to write the Wayfinders as siblings.


	7. Oats We Sow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Cause it’s bad to do what’s easy, just ‘cause it’s easy  
> And I wanna do what pleases me, but I can’t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been following me so far, I'm flattered, super duper flattered. Seeing feedback is real exciting. 
> 
> Real sad hours ahead, enjoy.

_Riku wasn’t sure when they’d become too old to play pretend. Maybe it sometime between the day he’d begun middle school and the day Sora got a concussion during a game of Capture-the-Flag, when they’d smacked foreheads on accident and Riku had come away with not much more than a bump on his head.  He’d sat with him at the doctor’s office for too long, shoulder-to-shoulder, while Sora stared dazedly straight ahead._

_Riku pretended other things. That when he and Sora sat idly together under the walnut tree in the middle of the summer, he didn’t think it felt like a scene from a young adult novel. That he didn’t like sharing a twin sized bed when they slept over even though they’d both recently had growth spurts, because it meant they could sleep closer together. That at some point his stupid, airheaded smile hadn’t turned his stomach into the latest destination for the monarch butterfly migration._

_Middle school came with the reality of pain--pain in strange, indeterminable places. In his muscles, in his bones, and probably his spleen, but he couldn’t tell._

_Riku had grown several inches then. When the skin on his hips and stomach became marked with angry red striations, he was terrified that the pain was finally splitting him open. But Sora said, no, he’d seen those marks appear on trees as they grew bigger--and that with his silver hair, he reminded him of a birch or an aspen. That made Riku’s heart ache, too._

_Sora didn’t pretend anything. He cried all the time; he cried when he watched movies, he cried when he pet dogs on the street, he cried the time they camped in Yosemite and a yellow jacket stung him on the shoulder. He was bad at dancing, but he did it anyway. He sang Carly Rae Jepsen under the overpass in the creek where his voice echoed, and he didn’t care who heard him._

_Riku envied him. If Sora’s heart ever hurt, it was because it was too big and it pressed against his ribcage instead of weighing heavy in his stomach, as Riku’s own did. That was what he chose to believe--for a while, anyway._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sora was by himself in the creek again. Riku always hoped that he’d come back with something; partly, it was because they were all starving for something that wasn’t canned, frozen, or dried. God knows how long he could eat a mix of canned and dried beans as his main source of protein before he Dutch-ovened himself to death in his sleep. But mostly, it was because he hated to see Sora masking his disappointment when he came home empty handed. He was too easy to read and it hurt sometimes.

Riku spent the morning helping Kairi finish installing the rain barrels. She’d created them from tin drums she’d found and wheeled each individually back home in the rusty Radio Flyer wagon. She’d already done most of the complicated work including sautering spigots onto them herself, so Riku’s job was mostly to carry and set cinder blocks under the downspouts and to place the barrels carefully onto them, holding them steady while she connected them to the spouts.  

She was feeling better; her coughing had died down, her voice was no longer phlegmy, and she was singing under her breath while they worked. When they were done she stretched and beamed at him, her face bright pink and a little bit sweaty, and then gazed proudly back at the barrels standing around the sides of the house.

At some point--after they’d both taken a shower--Riku found himself again with Kairi. This time they were in front of the TV, watching a movie. She sat on the couch with her legs dangling over Riku’s shoulders while he sat in front of her on the floor, her extensive collection of nail polish beside him on the coffee table. She’d insisted that he blow dry his hair so that he wouldn’t catch a cold, and then she wanted to dry it herself, and then she wanted to braid it. So now Riku was sitting on the floor as Kairi worked on separating locks of his hair with chip clips, he was painting each of her toenails a different color, and The Neverending Story was in the DVD player.

“So if you’re the mountaineering expert, how come Sora’s the one out trying to catch all the game?” Riku asked. He wasn’t one to talk during movies, but Kairi running his hands through his hair was beginning to make him sleepy and he wanted to at least stay awake long enough to finish her nails.

“I told you; he’s actually better at it than I am.”

“You never told me anything like that.”

“Really? I never told you that story?”

“There’s a story?”

Kairi sighed as she tugged at his hair. “I don’t set traps. The short part of the story is that Sora is actually a lot better at hunting that I am. He’s got a sharp eye, you know. The long part is…” She took a breath and tied the ends of two tiny braids together. “You know how I was born in Big Sur? I used to live in this house in the mountains where there aren’t any towns because it’s too rugged. We grew some of our own vegetables and had a chicken coop; my dad set traps around the house to keep coyotes from raiding the coop and deer from eating the garden. This was also when I completely ignored everything my dad said. I used to play with his pocket knife because I thought it looked like a whale even though he told me not to. I used to go wander in the woods when he was out of the house even though he told me not to. So one day when he was gone--I was about five, I think--I decided to steal his knife and play with it outside.”

“Wow, Kairi, living on the edge.”

She kicked her heel against his chest, causing Riku to slip and paint one long streak of pink across the top of her foot.

“I got my leg caught in a coyote snare. I was in the middle of the woods and no one could hear me crying. Somehow I was smart enough to remember that I had a knife, that knives were for cutting, and that I could use the knife to cut myself out of it. How well do you think a five year-old can use a knife? _Not very well._ I had to get ten stitches.” Riku leaned back to find her giving him a hard stare. “And that’s why I don’t set traps.”

He worked at scrubbing the stray nail polish off her skin with a cotton ball. Above her ankle, there was a thick, puckered scar which wrapped around her leg like a vine. She sighed again--a tired sigh he felt on the back of his neck, which was now bare as she fixed a larger volume of his hair into a thick braid.

Somewhere in the background, Atreyu screamed and cried for his horse drowning in the Swamp of Sadness.

“I’m done,” Kairi announced, letting Riku’s hair fall with the softest _thump_ against his back. She kicked her legs up, causing him to mispaint her skin again.

“Well, _I’m_ not. Hold still.”

Just then the front door opened and Riku could hear Sora’s excited voice shouting something unintelligible, but he could hear his name among the verbal jumble. Kairi leapt off the couch despite his insistence to stay put and ran for the door. He groaned and set down the jar of nail polish before following her.

Sora stood in the doorway; his cheeks were red and flecked with dirt, and the hems of his jeans were muddy and rolled up to his knees. He was beaming as he held something behind his back. “I did it!” He said, and swung his prize around for them to see: in his arms, he cradled two rabbits.

Kairi squealed and clapped, bouncing on her toes as she placed her hands over his. “You did it!”

“Congrats,” Riku said.

Sora’s grin was cartoonishly wide. It looked good on him. It felt like the sun had come out from the cloud it had been hiding behind for months.

“Your hair looks really nice, Riku,” he said with the same broad grin. “Hey, where’s my brother?”

Riku’s mind went staticy for a moment, so he just patted the back of his head out of habit at the mention of his hair. Living here wasn’t good for his heart. “Not sure, we sent him out to find groceries.”

Kairi ushered Sora inside and took the rabbits from his arms. “Take a shower, you’re gross,” she teased.

He stuck his tongue out at her before leaving his shoes and backpack by the door and disappearing into the bathroom.

Kairi began to make her way to the backyard door but turned back to face Riku before stepping outside, grinning and putting a finger to her lips. “You might not wanna see this part.”

As it turned out, one way to gut a rabbit was just to squeeze it (which she did over the compost pile before kicking dirt over it). Riku was horrified, but he watched the rest of the process with rapt attention; he was squeamish and yet he couldn’t look away. It was unnerving, the ease with which living things came apart.

Kairi could not squash a cockroach, but she could take apart two rabbits within half an hour. By the time Sora was out of the shower she had the pelts in a pile on the kitchen counter and two tupperware tubs of meticulously divided meat--one placed in the fridge and the other in the freezer. She gave Riku a hard stare, placed an index finger delicately on his nose, and said, “Your turn. Don’t mess it up.”

 

* * *

 

_If there was one thing Riku was sure about Kairi, it was that at birth she had inherited a piece of John Muir’s soul. She’d wriggled her way into their lives faster than Riku could stop her, with her thoughtful crafts and Teva brand sandals and cute freckles. She always smelled like redwoods._

_Sora loved the new girl from Big Sur in his third grade class immediately. Riku regarded her with trepidation. She used a handmade slingshot to strike him with green almonds until he quit protesting her presence when she ate lunch with them, and then she fixed the spots on his ankles where she’d hit him a little too hard and made him bleed with Band-Aids. She said to him, “I’m not trying to take away your friend. I’m trying to be your friend, too--if you’d stop being a jerk and just let me.” He decided he liked her after that._

_Kairi could make anything if it was out of rope or wood. She was always working on a new project. Once a month or so, she gave him something--a macrame bracelet with blue and yellow beads, a block of wood with his name carved in it in cursive, the slingshot she’d used to hit him with green almonds. Sometimes, it was simpler--a perfectly smooth pebble, half a sand dollar, a piece of asphalt sparkling with mica. Riku learned it was useless to try to make her stop._

_He began to forget she hadn’t always been there to stick rocks and beads in his backpack when he wasn’t looking._

 

* * *

 

It was the best thing he had ever eaten. He never touted his own cooking skills, but Riku could let himself shed humbleness for just one night. Roxas’ plate had never been so clean. Kairi’s head was in her hands and she was whining that the heartburn she was going to get in about an hour was completely worth it. Sora was hunched over, facedown on the table. Riku considered the evening a success.

“Oh,” started Sora, sitting up suddenly. “I meant to show you guys this.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it under Riku’s nose. It was opened to a message, which read as the following:

 

 

> _snakelizardsnakelizard lizardsnakelizard lizard lizard snakelizardsnake tree snake lizardlizardsnake snakelizard snakelizard lizard lizardsnakelizardlizard_

 

“Again?”

“Aw, are you getting cyberbullied?” Roxas teased.

Sora shrugged.

“And that’s the second one you’ve gotten?” Kairi’s eyebrows were raised, but knit together ever slightly. Then she tilted her head downwards, resting a few fingers over her lips thoughtfully. “Snakes and lizards, huh.”

Roxas began to whistle the X-Files theme. Sora squished his cheeks with one hand, turning Roxas’ whistling into a pathetic raspberry.  

 

  

Riku woke to an ache in his back and the paperback version of _The Neverending Story_ spread across his chest. He’d meant to read on the couch (which was as close as he could get to reading in bed these days) but he must have dozed off at some point. The TV was on, but the volume was turned almost all the way down. He could see the outline of Kairi asleep on the floor, illuminated by the TV’s glow.

As his mind arose from the fog of sleep he became aware of a mumbling coming from beyond the hallway.

“We can’t keep… empty...”

“Mom and Dad…”

Then anxious pacing—a _thump, thump, thump_ like someone was walking on their heels. A shuffling sound. Dresser drawers being opened and closed. The voices began to escalate in volume.

Fast asleep on the floor, Kairi was completely oblivious to the noise. Riku stayed where he was; he lifted the book off his chest and peeked to see where he left off. Within its pages, Atreyu screamed and cried for his horse drowning in the Swamp of Sadness.

“We can’t. I don’t want to.”

More pacing. Hissing whispers he couldn’t understand.

“Leave it the way it is.”

“For how long? Forever?”

“Is that so bad?”

_‘With every step we take, the sadness grows in my heart. I’ve lost hope... And I feel so heavy, so heavy…’_

“It’s not considerate.”

“But _my_ feelings aren’t good enough for you to consider, huh?”

“That’s not--”

Scuffling. A _thump_ like something soft had been thrown against the wall, followed by a yelp. The patter of feet running into the twins’ bedroom.

“Roxas, please,” called Sora’s voice from the other side of the house, winded and desperate.

_‘You mustn’t let yourself go. Come. Pull yourself out or you’ll sink.’_

The light spilling out from the bedroom revealed the silhouette of Roxas hurriedly slipping his shoes on without bothering to tie them, fleece-lined flannel shirt draped over his shoulders, skateboard under his arm. He disappeared beyond the front door, slamming it in his brother’s face with a force that made the house shudder.

_‘I can’t make it. Go on alone. Don’t bother about me. I can’t stand the sadness anymore. I want to die!’_

Sora stood before the empty doorway in his pajamas, his shoulders slumped, fingers disappearing into the too-long sleeves of his shirt as they curled into a fist. Riku watched him lean forward and press his forehead against the door and stand there for an achingly long time. He didn’t move until Riku exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Slowly, Sora shifted his gaze upward, his watery and doleful eyes barely visible from beneath his browline. He mouthed something; it took Riku a moment to realize it had been his name. His heart felt like it had been shredded with a pair of forks like a roast of meat in a slow cooker recipe. He sat up and closed his book.

All at once Sora was beside him, his face pressed firmly into the hollow above his collarbone, thick hair tickling his nose. It smelled like oranges. Riku wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. Pressed awkwardly against his side, Sora felt small.

“I miss my parents,” Sora whispered into his neck.

“I know.”

_‘It’s the sadness that has made me so heavy. That’s why I’m sinking. There’s no help.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oats We Sow -- Gregory and the Hawk
> 
> I didn't exactly write these chapters with Gregory and the Hawk in mind (especially as a Riku-POV chapter), but those songs just strike a very particular feeling in me--pining for things and whatnot--it kind of came about that way.


	8. Everything I Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God forbid I should ever stop feeling sorry for myself for being selfish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest chapter out of all of them but it was also one of the most fun to write. Roxas comes easily to for me for some reason. 
> 
> School is almost over for me, man. I'm gonna become a bum writing fanfiction from my parents' house soon.
> 
> [EDIT] I didn't plan on like, specifying the exact relationships between these characters because I don't really care about telling people how to interpret my writing, but despite doing my best to make this abundantly clear, some feedback has been making me anxious about this lately so I want to at least say this: there's not any Ak*r*ku in this fic. Axel/Lea is a Literal Adult in canon, I really don't care to ship him with kids. Thanks.

_When Roxas was born, he’d cried because he was angry. He had a body that never quit hurting; why, he didn’t know, and it only made him angrier. It came from his deepest core and he couldn’t get it out, couldn’t just dig into his chest and pull it through his ribcage, even though he tried. He could cut his flesh to ribbons. He could abuse his medication. He could do all those things, but none of it ever soothed him. He hurt and hurt and hurt._

_Roxas spent most of his time alone. He taught himself to skateboard, because his parents wouldn’t let him have a trick bike to ride on the new dunes at the park and it was next coolest thing. He learned from watching the older kids. He was good at it._

_One day, a few months before he was to turn twelve, he heard music drifting from across the other side of the park as he rode his skateboard aimlessly up and down the pathway. It was underproduced, the singing wasn’t good, and it didn’t even have much of a melody--and yet, it resonated with something inside him. He loved it. He wanted to get closer to it._

_A group of about five teenagers of varying ages sat on top of the tables in the picnic area, a boombox in their midst, cigarettes burning between some of their fingers._

_The first one to notice him approach was a girl with an intimidatingly cold stare, which she turned on him and hissed, “What do you want?” Her straw colored hair was slicked back, except for a couple stray cowlicks. She was one of the ones with a cigarette._

_“Don’t be so mean, Larxene. He’s like, ten,” said another. His hair was spiked, but it looked like he had given up halfway through styling it and just let a mess of unruly strands fall across his face. He also held a cigarette._

_“I’m almost twelve,” Roxas informed them._

_“I’m still not really comfortable with him here.” The voice came from the one who sat with a slouch and let his dark hair cover half of his face._

_“Come on, guys,” said the tall one with the mane of fire engine red hair. “Hey. You skate?” He turned his attention to Roxas, gesturing to the skateboard under his foot._

_Roxas nodded._

_“You any good?”_

_Roxas nodded again._

_“Don’t encourage him,” mumbled the boy who sat beside the red-haired one. His eyes were hooded and his lips were pursed. On his lap rested a Casio keyboard._

_“Don’t be such assholes. C’mon, show me what you can do with that board of yours.” The red-haired boy patted the back of his friend beside him before leaping off the table. He set a hand on Roxas’ shoulder and led him away from the picnic area. His nails were painted black; up close, he realized that it was Sharpie marker and not nail polish._

_Roxas felt tense under the the hand of the red-haired boy. “Are you messing with me?” He asked in a low voice._

_The boy let out a laugh that sounded like a bark. “Me? No. The others? Probably. They can be huge jerks.” He lifted his hand from Roxas’ shoulder and rubbed the back of his head. “I always see you out here by yourself,” he said after a beat of silence. “Thought you looked kinda lonely.”_

_“I am_ not _lonely,” Roxas huffed._

_“Okay, sure.”_

_Roxas huffed again and did a tre flip with his board in front of him to shut him up._

_“Hey, that’s pretty cool. What else can you do?”_

 

_The red-haired boy talked a lot. Too much, in fact. It seemed that he had to fill all empty space with words and if somebody else didn’t do it first, he would. But Roxas liked the way that when he asked him questions, it felt real. It didn’t feel like he just was another older kid who teased him._

_He was halfway through explaining something or other when Roxas stopped him and said, “You haven’t told me your name yet.”_

_“Oh. It’s Axel.”_

_“I’m Roxas.”_

_And then Axel kept talking right from where he left off._

 

* * *

 

It was all so stupid. His brother was stupid. He was stupid. Why did he do that? Now he couldn’t turn back. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Roxas ran through the dark with his skateboard under his arm, his breath puffing out in a stream behind him and dissipating into the clear night sky. He ran past the neighbors’ place where he’d broken in to steal their root vegetables. Past the line of houses across the street with the smashed-in windows. Past the park where he used to skate. Above him, the moon was just a sliver with a ring around it. He ran and ran until he became too tired to run, and then he mounted his skateboard and kept going.

His feet took him to Lea’s townhouse, like always. Lea was out on the lawn in front of the complex wearing a T-shirt without a jacket, cigarette in hand, breath mingling with smoke whenever he took a drag.

“Hey,” he said in a soft voice when Roxas came close.

“Can I stay here for the night?”

“Sure. You can have my bed; I’ll take the couch.”

“Don’t need it. I can sleep on the couch.” Roxas left Lea on the lawn and hurried inside before he could stop him.

For a moment the house appeared to be empty, but when he closed the door behind him he could hear footsteps coming from the second floor.

“Lea, can you _please_ put the toilet seat down--” Xion appeared at the top of the stairs wearing an oversized hoodie which came down almost to her knees. “Oh, Roxas,” she said in a much gentler tone.

Roxas made eye contact but he didn’t say anything. He removed his shoes and set his skateboard down by the door instead.

Xion made her way down the stairs and greeted him with a hug. “You alright?” She asked when she pulled away.

“Not really, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”  


 

They played Super Smash Bros Melee on Lea’s old purple Gamecube. She laughed like a hyena when he told her that she looked like Marth; then she refused to pick any character other than Kirby for the rest of the night. Lea returned and shoved himself between them on the couch for a while before leaving them alone again. When they got bored they turned off the TV, and the two of them sat around with their heads lolling back on the couch and not doing much else but making idle conversation.

“By the way, you wearing anything under that hoodie?”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Like shorts or something.”

“No, this hoodie is the only thing between my bare skin and the cool night air. _Yes,_ Roxas, I’m wearing shorts.”

“Just making sure.”

They heard Lea’s voice drift in from the kitchen. He was talking on the phone and pacing slowly one the linoleum floor, dragging his fingers over the edge of the table as he walked. “He’s probably at a friend’s house and forgot to charge his phone. Uh-huh. I dunno, Terra, he’s fifteen. You know how that is. Uh-huh. Well, if I see him, I’ll be sure to return him to you. Mhm. Okay. Bye.”

When Lea returned to the living room where Roxas and Xion sat, he noticed them twisted in his direction, giving him curious looks. “Terra said Ven didn’t come home last night.” Xion looked worried. “He’s probably fine. He’s a good kid.”

“Ven?” Asked Roxas.

“Their brother.”

Roxas was suddenly reminded of his own, and the fight, and the entire reason he was sitting on Lea’s couch late at night.

“I’m gonna hit the sack,” Lea said amidst a yawn. “Extra blankets are in the closet. ‘Night, Rox. ‘Night, Xi.” He ruffled their hair when he passed them on the couch.

“You’re not gonna kiss me goodnight, Lea? I’m a guest.”

“Good _night._ ”

Xion got up to turn off the lights. “I should go to bed, too,” she said.

“No. Don’t. Keep me company for a bit.”

She held up one finger and disappeared into the hallway closet, returning a few moments later with a large comforter which she draped over them both as she sat herself set back down beside him on the couch.

“Now we’re comfy,” she whispered with a half smile on her face.

The dark made Roxas’ mind feel quieter. It was comfortable, being under the big blanket with Xion. He could see the sliver of the moon with the ring around it shining through the living room window, now.

“Got into a fight with my brother,” Roxas told her in a low voice. “But it was mostly me being an asshole.”

There was a thread between him and Sora--some kind of invisible sinew that the doctors forgot to cut when he was born. He felt it tug when he got too far away. In fifth grade, he’d heard it from the kids in the mess hall that Sora had cried the first two nights at Camp Koinonia because he and Roxas hadn’t been placed in the same cabin. He wondered if he’d still feel it, if they hadn’t been twins, or brothers, or related at all. He wondered if he would feel it less if they weren’t so different--if Roxas hadn’t been born so troubled, or Sora so carefree. He could not leave. He could not go to Carmel. He feared the pain of that thread being pulled too taut. When they fought, he could feel it strangling him.

With her black hair and the comforter pulled up to her chin, Xion almost disappeared into the darkness. He could still see her eyes, though, wide and glittering. She was too kind for him. They shared a similar soul. But she was too kind for him. He felt the urge to cry begin to strain against the walls of his chest.

“We haven’t been in our parents’ room since they died. Today was the first time. Sora wanted to clean it, give it to Kairi or Riku, so Riku doesn’t have to sleep on the couch anymore. He wanted to give their clothes away; we’d never fit into them anyway, we’re both too short. But I didn’t want to touch it. I wanted to leave the room the way it is.”

“Maybe,” she said in the smallest whisper, “That’s his way of dealing with his feelings. You want to preserve it. He wants to purge it.”

He let out an anxious laugh, but it got caught in his throat and he made a choking noise instead. “I miss them,” he croaked, and began to cry.  


There was long, long, period of silence between them, with Roxas’ sniffling being the only noise in the house besides the constant hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. When he ran out of tears and became tired, he shut his burning eyes and let himself rest his head on Xion’s shoulder. It wasn’t very soft.

“Roxas,” she said. “I don’t miss my parents. I might even be glad that they’re dead. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No. I’ve met your parents. They were both a couple of shitheads.”

Her dry laughter was the last thing Roxas heard before he fell asleep.

 

* * *

  

_Roxas liked Axel. He made him feel important, even though he and his friends were all in high school and they didn’t really care about anything a middle-schooler had to say._

_He won most of his friends over eventually. Demyx, who had a good sense of humor and hit it off with Roxas from the beginning. Zexion, who mumbled everything he said and sat with a horrible slouch, came to tolerate him, too. Even Larxene, whose favorite thing to do was to ask if there was a wall somewhere he could be hitting his head against instead of talking to her, stopped doing that after a couple months. Sometimes she even let him ride in the passenger seat when she drove—but he didn’t always like that, because she was a terrifying driver._

_The only one he couldn’t win over was the boy with the hooded eyes and the pursed lips—Isa, whose name he had to learn from someone else, because he never spoke to him. Axel had introduced him to Roxas as his best friend. He’d thought he was kidding at first._

_“Don’t mind him too much,” Axel had once whispered to Roxas. “He’s like that ‘cause he has a bad home life.”_

_“Do his parents hit him?” It was a dumb, insensitive question on Roxas’ part, but he was twelve._

_“No,” said Axel. “All his bruises are on the inside.”_

  


_The five of them, they were in a band. Axel played bass; he was good at it. Every other weekend Roxas listened to them practice in Larxene’s garage, which was a well furnished place in a kind of kitsch, outdated way like the basement on That 70’s Show--but cozy and lived-in._ We’re going to do Battle of the Bands this year, _Demyx would say, but they never did._

_They didn’t always sound good together. Sometimes they were a mess. But they sounded like the underproduced passionate half-singing, half-yelling melodies they listened to on their boombox--like the music Roxas had heard that day at the park._

_Larxene had an electric guitar; she’d decorated it with stickers and hot pink nail polish when she was younger, and she always said she was going to remove them but she never did. Demyx played the guitar as well, except on the days he didn’t, and instead he brought a curious thing with a long neck strung with metal which made an even more curious droning sound. Zexion played the drums and it worked for him, because it meant he didn’t have to sing. Isa was their keyboardist; Roxas had to admit he still didn’t know much about him._

_“Who writes the songs?” Roxas asked once._

_“Well, if the song’s about girls, it’s Larxene’s. And if it’s about boys, it’s mine,” Axel said._

_“What if it’s not about either?”_

_“That’s Demyx, and he only writes about food.”_

_Sometimes, Axel played the steel string guitar which belonged to Larxene. She hardly ever touched it herself so it just sat in her garage gathering dust until he went to her house to give it attention. Sometimes, it was just him and Axel in the garage when he played the steel string guitar, and he hummed the words instead of singing. Sometimes, it was just Axel and Isa in the garage when he played the steel string guitar, and they sat very close together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I Own -- The Front Bottoms
> 
> hey fun fact about half this fic is an ode to how much I love The Front Bottoms, which is only partly an exaggeration, and I started writing this immediately after I saw them live in concert back in November. I really think that Roxas would be into that kind of stuff. front bottoms. modern baseball. my terrible music choices I can't help but love with all my heart because I'm gay and also it came into my life when i needed it the most
> 
> If you have questions or you just wanna talk feel free to hmu on my personal blog koukoupepia @ tumblr


	9. Flying Model Rockets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying model rockets own the sky in the backyard next to mine  
> I get these strange phone calls at night, with no one on the other side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orrrfffghghh I took a long time to post this chapter 'cause I was finishing up my last semester of college. This is the longest chapter I've written so far, I had fun with it.

The sun rose red upon the first day of December, like an angry zit hanging in the sky.

Riku hadn’t slept. He kept thinking about Sora’s face buried in his neck, and how his shirt had been wet when he finally pulled away. He kept thinking about his hair and how it smelled like oranges. He kept thinking about the way he looked, alone in the double bed, when he’d fallen asleep and Riku had carried him back to his room. So he lay awake on the couch all night counting dots on the ceiling with his arms folded over his stomach, trying to quell the aching feeling.

He saw Roxas approach the door from where he lay, just a shadow through the window blinds. He stood in the sun’s lurid glow with his head low on the front step, skateboard in one hand, the other raised to knock. Riku opened the door for him before his knuckles met the wood. He expected the usual expression of defiance to be there when he raised his head to gaze up at him, but the fire in his eyes was gone, replaced by clouded glass. Roxas shoved his way past him without a word before disappearing into his bedroom.

  
  


The air in the morning was always still, as if the earth held its breath until the afternoon when the breeze would begin to blow in from the bay and over the mountains. But the wildlife that bustled in the backyard made enough noise to drown out the silence that had grown heavier since The End. There was more of it, now. The dark-eyed juncos hopped in the grass, the bushtits sang out from somewhere the jasmine plant, and more than once a coyote had passed the house ambling down the middle of the street.

Kairi found Riku sitting on the step of the backyard patio with arms crossed over his knees, watching the birds hop about on the lawn. He didn’t look at her when she sat herself next to him; he was too tired to concentrate on anything besides staring at the dead grass. His head and his body felt off register with each other, and his insides still ached.

Something wet poked his cheek suddenly—Kairi was pressing a slice of persimmon against the corner of his lips. She shrugged and popped it into her own mouth instead when he pushed her hand away.

“It’s kind of like listening to your parents fight, isn’t it?” Kairi said suddenly through a mouth full of fruit.

“What are you talking about?”

“The twins.”

“I wouldn’t know. I only had one parent.”

“So did I.”

They both laughed.

“Can you undo my braids? They’re giving me a headache.”

Kairi obliged, humming as she separated her careful work with her fingers. “You have a headache because you didn’t sleep, you dork. I’ll make you some coffee.”

God, coffee. He’d forgotten that still existed. Coffee sounded really, really good. Riku nodded furiously.

  


There was a Keurig machine buried in the corner of the kitchen counter behind the rice cooker. The two of them rummaged through the cabinets searching for the tiny cups that were supposed to go with it. Riku found them hidden in a basket inside the cabinet with the revolving spice rack which squeaked horribly whenever he turned it. Its contents consisted only of Peet’s Coffee.

He didn’t know what any of the words on the cups meant, so he just chose the name he liked the best ( _Alma de la Tierra_ sounded fancy, and while he wasn’t feeling particularly fancy at the moment he supposed that he could use some amount of fancy in his stomach.) As he waited for the machine to fill his mug, he heard a shuffling from the hallway and noticed that the twins’ bedroom door was open. He caught sight of Sora in doorway, lugging a laundry basket stacked with clothes into his room. When he re-emerged he noticed Riku staring at him.

“Morning,” he said as he strode into the kitchen to meet them. His eyes were red and his face was blotchy, but there was a smile on his face.

“Morning,” Kairi said as she kissed his cheek.

“Morn-- _oof_ ,” Riku said as Sora gave him a short, tight squeeze.

Sora bounced on knees a couple times. “We’re cleaning our parents’ room, so one of you can have it, and Riku doesn’t have to sleep on the couch anymore.”

“Yeah, it’s whatever. We came to a compromise.” Roxas appeared in the kitchen behind him, an empty laundry basket at his hip. His face was also flushed and his eyelids were swollen; it stood out on him, who had comparatively fairer skin.

“We decided it should be Riku’s,” Sora said.

“Me? No, Kairi should have it.”

The three of them turned to Kairi expectantly.

“I agree with Sora,” she said, glancing at Riku. “You deserve it, after sleeping on the couch for two months.”

“Or,” Roxas mused, “We could take Mom and Dad’s room and give him our room.”

“Facing the street, after all the window smashing that’s happened? No way,” hissed his brother.

Riku hummed a low hum and offered the twins a strained smile. “Thanks,” he said, trying to sound like he meant it. But he was picturing himself alone in the queen sized bed at the back of the house, unfamiliar smell and unfamiliar pillows, the side he didn’t sleep on perpetually cold.

He distracted himself by retrieving his mug from the Keurig machine and taking a sip, wincing when he burnt his tongue. It was horribly bitter. But--it was _good,_ and with his mouth numb and the smell in his nose, his mind retrieved for him a memory crystallized among the scent of coffee and the clink of ceramic drinkware under the murmur of conversation and the warmth of sunlight through a window. Then he was back, the memory just an apparition he saw manifest itself in that kitchen only for an instant. Suddenly the kitchen tile beneath his feet was too cold and the silence of the house was all too heavy.

The aching in his chest threatened to wrack his body until his insides were outside, but where he expected nausea to arise and make him heave until his organs were empty there was nothing.

He felt Kairi’s hand on his arm, heard her voice asking if he was feeling alright. As he stared into his reflection--dark and distorted within the confines of the mug--Riku realized he had forgotten how to cry.

 

* * *

 

Riku didn’t like the creek. He didn’t like the rough pebbles and the chunks of concrete that made up its bed, and how he occasionally rolled his ankles when he walked upon it; he didn’t like how its high banks felt like walls closing in with the way it blocked half of what amount of sunlight fell in it; he didn’t like being able to see the roots of giant oak trees sticking out of the banks like fingers reaching to grasp at his clothing if he wandered too close; he didn’t like how all the rest of it was overgrown with ivy which housed rats, and relentlessly angry, bare blackberry bushes which seemed to grow more thorns each time he glanced at them; he didn’t like the uneasy feeling he got from the shattered remnants of beer bottles sparkling green and brown among the rocks. But when Sora--who was either much bolder than he was, or just that naive--asked Riku to accompany him, he’d found he had a hard time saying no.

So there he was again, trudging through the jagged scar that ran northward through the suburbs, and Sora bouncing on his toes beside him with his bow and arrows sticking out of his backpack at an angle. Clouds were closing in on the sun above above them; what streak of blue sky he could see from their position had become dark and grey and the sense of claustrophobia simmering in his gut grew stronger, making him feel like he was wandering through a long, wet tunnel. Idly, he thought about how he was glad he wore his raincoat even though the _swish swish_ sound was beginning to drive him crazy.

“We’ll check the snares _one more time_ before it rains,” Sora was mumbling, mostly to himself, as he bent down to inspect a particularly round pebble. There was a subtle grin on his face. “Just in case.”

They’d come across the abandoned rope swing that was made of just a piece of wood and a knot which hung over the middle of the creekbed from the branch of an overgrown camphor tree. Riku considered distracting Sora just long enough until it started raining and then they could head home. He paused in front of the swing, decided _why not_ , and got on.

“Hey!” said Sora, but there was an entertained smile on his face.

“Tell me you don’t look longingly at this swing every time you pass it by. I see you.”

“I want to beat the rain!”

“Try and pry me off it, then,” Riku said as he shoved off against the mud-packed wall.

He laughed until he was wheezing and lost control of which direction he was swinging, watching Sora dodge back and forth as he fought the momentum of his weight. There was a moment Riku thought he’d been beaten, when he couldn’t breathe and forgot to keep pressing his feet against the gravel; Sora had managed to pull him to a stop with one hand firmly gripping the rope above Riku’s head and the other on his shoulder.

And then he shoved himself between his knees with an impish smile, and Riku lost hope of ever catching his breath. His face was too close. His hair still smelled like oranges. Riku thought--stupid and intrusive as it was--that if he tilted his head down, just a little, he could press his lips against the crown of his head. _No, no, no, no, no._

Suddenly Sora’s smile broke into a devilish grin. He let go of the rope and pushed forcefully against Riku’s chest. But instead of shoving him off the swing he only succeeded in sending him hovering back to the other side of the creek bed; Riku could hear Sora let out a groan of frustration and he laughed and shoved his feet against the wall of the creek again, watching Sora pause and slide his backpack off his shoulders as he swung past before sidling closer.

“Hey, move!” Riku called.

Sora planted himself directly in front of him, widening his stance and digging his heels into the ground.

“Move!”

He didn’t move. Riku winced as he barreled into him, knocking him off his feet and onto his back with a solid _oomph_ , and he lay on the ground, winded and clutching his stomach. Riku hoped the crunching sound he’d heard was just the gravel.

Riku leapt off the swing and knelt over him. “Shit, shit, shit! Are you alright? Please tell me you’re alright. Why’d you--”

“I got you off the swing,” Sora said, grinning. He didn’t seem to be in pain aside from having the wind knocked out of him.

“You--” Riku paused, open mouthed, searching for which one of the fifty things he wanted to say first. “You can _not_ do that, Sora, I _will_ kill you--if you don’t kill yourself by accident first.”

Sora just laughed a breathless laugh, one hand still on his stomach, and the other propped up behind him. He took Riku’s hand when he offered it, returning to his feet with a grunt and brushing the dirt off the seat of his pants. For a moment he didn’t want to let go of Sora’s hand--wiry and small, but comfortable in his own.

“I’m dead serious,” Riku said.   


They left the rope swing behind them. Sora hadn’t been as lucky with the snares as the last time; he remained empty-handed even as they approached the thrones carved of concrete. Riku wondered if he shouldn’t have let him get his hopes up, that they’d checked back too soon, but… he wanted to see that smile again, the really stupid proud one that made his gut feel funny. He supposed he’d gotten his own hopes up, too.

Sora sat himself in one of the thrones and rested his backpack between his feet. They were shaped more like modern chairs, really, but as there were two of them they only ever thought of them as being thrones. He patted the arm of the seat next to him expectantly. Riku sat down.

A breeze began to agitate the leaves of the trees above them. They sat leaning back against the hard concrete for a bit, just listening and gazing at the narrow streak of grey sky. He could feel the cold of the stone through his jeans. Beside him, Sora fiddled with his bow, tapping idly at the wood in rhythm. For a moment he felt like it was only the two of them in the entire world.

“I keep thinking I should get a stronger bow, like a modern one,” Sora said. “I don’t actually know how useful this is, yet. But I like this one.”

“No reason you can’t have both.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be the same. Kairi gave me this one.”

“No, I guess not.”

They’d gone to camp in Yosemite, years ago, in the summer. It was the three of them and Kairi’s father, sharing one of those tent-cabins with a wood floor and a canvas roof and uncomfortable cots. There were a few things they’d discovered about themselves that week, one being that Sora was frighteningly swift and could catch river trout with his bare hands. He entertained himself with that for a while when they splashed in the river that ran through the campground, but the archery range caught his eye one day and he wouldn’t quit asking about it. So they took him--and he fell in love with it. He kept begging to go back. For the next year and a half, Riku kept a difficult secret: Kairi was making him a bow.

Her father was a carpenter, and she worked on it in her garage under his supervision. She chose the prettiest piece of oak she could find, spent weeks and weeks carving away at it, and went through great difficulty to bend it into the right shape. It was supposed to be for Sora’s birthday. But she’d made the mistake of bringing it to the school woodshop to show it off to her teacher, and had gotten it confiscated under the “zero tolerance policy” along with earning detention and nearly being suspended. The school never returned the original to her. So she started over. And by the time she’d finished it, it was a year and a half later when she’d finally presented it to him for his thirteenth birthday. The memory of it was somewhat bittersweet, but Riku still smiled when he thought about it.

He heard Sora sigh thoughtfully as he slouched against the concrete, his fingertips still dancing on the bow. “Too bad it wasn’t zombies,” he said.

“Why? You wanted it to be zombies?”

“I dunno, I was thinking maybe then we’d’ve had a fighting chance.” _Tap, tap, tap._ ¾ time.

Sora’s phone buzzed in his pocket. With one hand he fished it out and glanced at the screen, and Riku watched his brows furrow and his mouth contort into a frown. He tilted the phone so Riku could see, his incredulous expression everything he needed to know.

 

 

> _lizardlizardlizard snake lizardlizard lizardsnakelizardlizard lizardsnakelizardlizard tree lizardlizardlizardlizard lizard lizardsnakelizard lizard_

 

Riku met his gaze, shrugging and shaking his head.

 

The last snare was at the mouth of the storm drain. They walked in silence for the fifteen minutes it took to reach it. Beside him, Sora tapped at his thigh.

The tunnel yawned at him, the entrance uncomfortably person-sized so that it could swallow him whole if only he bent his knees first; he wanted to look away but decided he probably shouldn’t completely remove it from his field of vision, so he watched it out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see. Its round mouth to grow teeth, like a leech or lamprey? The green, glowing eyes of the wolf G’mork? ...A zombie, maybe?

_Tap, tap, tap,_ went Sora’s fingers. A waltz rhythm. Riku heard Sora’s phone buzz again in his pocket. It went ignored. _Tap, tap, tap._

“Riku! Come look!”

Sora was crouched before a particularly large patch of weeds, his hands cupped around something. He straightened his back, raising his arms and delicately unfurling his fingers to reveal a small, brown, and wet-eyed creature curled upon his palm.

“You wanted to show me a lizard.”

“Salamanders are amphibians, Riku.” He smiled fondly down at it, his eyes bright and sparkling in admiration of such a dull and slimy thing--that stupid, proud smile. He offered it to Riku, who could do without touching strange wet things, and waved his hands vigorously from side to side in refusal. “Okay, putting him down now,” he said as he set the salamander free, blowing it a kiss as it scuttled back into the mess of mud and weeds.

Sora stood, brushing the dirt and dust off his knees--then swung his head in the direction of the storm drain as a strong gust of wind rattled the trees above and the mouth of the tunnel elicited a low moan. He continued to stare at it before slowly turning his head away.

“I keep thinking there’s something in there,” he said in a low voice, then laughed dryly and rubbed at his shoulders, feigning a shiver.

Riku could only nod wordlessly in reply. Nothing but muddy water, rats... and salamanders, probably.

_Salamanders, salamanders. Lizard. Snake. Lizard. Tap, tap, tap._

“Sora,” said Riku suddenly. “The app, with the messages. Let me see it, please.”

Sora surrendered the phone. “What are you doing?”

“Just a hunch,” he said, bending down to fetch a stick from the edge of the creek bed and beginning to scratch into the dirt. When he was done, he had transcribed the message from the day before:

  

> -.-. .-. . . -.- / - ..- -. -. . .-..

 

 Snake for a dash. Lizard for a dot. Tree for a break in words.

“You think it’s morse?”

“Like I said, just a hunch. It couldn’t be binary. There are eight numbers to a letter character, and look where the spaces are.”

“But if they wanted to send us a code, why would they make it so easy?”

“Fuck if I know,” Riku mumbled, summoning a morse translator on his phone’s web browser, “but damn it if I’m not going to see if I’m right anyway.”

The message read:

 

> _creek tunnel_

 

“Riku,” Sora began slowly. Riku felt the blood in his veins turn frigid. “There _is_ someone in there.”

They leapt backwards and scrambled as far as they could up the muddy wall of the creek with their eyes fixed on the storm drain. They squatted there for a minute, holding their breaths as they stared at it wide-eyed. Riku transcribed the first message and plugged it into the translator. It read:

  

> _please help. im sick_

 

Oh. Oh, no. Five seconds ago, they could have guiltlessly walked away. Five seconds ago, they could have gone home and maybe Riku would think about today sometimes in a _hey, wasn’t that one time weird? Anyway, please don’t take me to the creek ever again_ kind of way.

It could very well be a trap set by the same ilk of the boys who smashed in all the windows across the street for absolutely no reason. But what if they were wrong? There was no one else to help but them.

  


As he crouched and allowed the mouth of the storm drain swallow him whole, Riku was beginning to have second thoughts. It was a claustrophobic nightmare that smelled like mud and mold and rotting plants and rat piss. It was almost as bad as that time he had a panic attack when he got lost inside the tunnels of a McDonald’s playplace when he was six. _Turn back,_ his gut screamed. _This is how Jeepers Creepers started._

Beside him, Sora’s face was ghostly pale, and the hand of his that held a pocket-sized flashlight was trembling--yet he extended his free hand to him. Riku took it. It was cold and sweaty.

A shallow stream of water ran under their feet, leaking through the mesh in Riku’s shoes and dampening his socks. It dried as they walked further in. Graffiti spanned the entire length of the tunnel--most of it was the usual inane and insignificant stuff he usually saw on trucks and the sides of buildings--a few tags and leaves of marijuana here, sticks and images of cartoon characters there. But some of them were decipherable text. _Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,_ read one. _We are the people your parents warned you about,_ said another. He was feeling a bit too overwhelmed to laugh.

“If we die here, I’m really sorry,” Sora said.

“We’re absolutely gonna die here,” Riku replied. “But you have our entire afterlives to make it up to me.”

There was a T-shaped split in the tunnel where a faint amount of light filtered in from a grate above, and rungs against the side of the wall that lead up to the underside of a manhole cover. Sora tugged him in one direction before he could stop and fret about it. The wind whistled through the grate carrying a scent that was decidedly worse that the one that had been in their nostrils so far. And then--at the farthest end, he could see artificial light.

He felt Sora’s clammy hand squeeze his own a little tighter. He thought about letting Kairi know that they were about to make the stupidest decision of their lives, but if she knew that being murdered after wandering into a storm drain was the reason they never returned, she would never let them rest in peace. He wished somberly that he let her kiss him more often. _Sorry, Kairi. Sorry we’re so fucking stupid._

As they approached the light, Sora cupped a hand around his mouth and called, “Hello?”

The only response they got was the wind in the grate.

“Hey,” Riku shouted.

Under the sound of the wind, he thought he could hear a faint groan echoing from the far side.

“We got your message,” Sora called again. “We’re here to help.”

“Unless you’re a murderer, in which case you can fuck right off.”

The groaning sound came again.

They kept going, slowly, until the light grew brighter and they could make out the shadow of something cast against the wall. Sora jumped, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the tunnel, when they saw the shape move. His hand was so sweaty it nearly slipped from Riku’s grip as he did so.

Curled at the end of the tunnel in the light of an electric lantern was--

Well, it was definitely human, but it didn’t look so good.

They were cocooned within several layers of jackets, and without seeing their face, Riku couldn’t determine anything else about them. On the opposite wall leaned a rusted bicycle with a metal pannier; beside it sat a six-pack of blue Gatorade and an opened box of Clif Bars. There was a mess of something unidentifiable and very questionable in the corner. Riku figured it may or may not also be Clif Bars and blue Gatorade.

“Hello,” Sora said.

The figure turned toward them, revealing the face of a boy--around their age, eyes bloodshot, straw blond hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. He wore a respirator that covered only the lower half of his face. There was no color in his face at all. He looked awful, even worse than Kairi had when she was sick.

“Hi,” he replied. His gaze was fixed on Sora, brows twisted in an expression he couldn’t interpret.

Riku let go of Sora’s hand (regretfully) and dropped to his knees beside the stranger. He swore under his breath when he brushed the hair out of his face to place a hand on his forehead. It felt like fire.

“We need to get you out of here,” Riku told him. “Can you stand?”

The stranger groaned as he tried to rise, pushing himself upright but unable to get any farther. “My legs hurt too much.”

Riku motioned for Sora to help him and prepared to drape one of his arms over his shoulder before he feebly pushed his hand away.

“No… I don’t want another ghost to touch me.”

“What are you talking about?” Riku paused and glanced at Sora.

“Riku’s really pale, but he’s not a ghost.”

“I’m not talking about him,” said the stranger. His eyes were still on Sora. “I’m talking about _him._ ”

“...I’m not a ghost, either. Look.” Sora patted Riku’s arm. “See? Not a ghost.”

“He’s got a wild fever, Sora, he’s almost definitely completely delirious. C’mon.” He crouched to pull the stranger’s arm over his shoulder again and pulled him to his feet.

“My bike…”

“We’ll come back for it later,” Riku lied.

 

They shuffled through the tunnel as quickly was they could, which wasn’t terribly fast as Riku was still had to crouch as he walked and he now had the weight of an extra body hanging weakly off his shoulder. The stranger wasn’t heavy, but something was wrong with his legs; he took one step for every five that Riku took, and the uneven gait was slowing him down.

Upon reaching the exit, Riku kneeled and shifted the stranger so that he hung off his back, with his arms looped around his legs. He still refused to let Sora touch him, which made things difficult and frustrating.

“Where’re you from?” Riku asked, just to keep him from babbling about ghosts. He didn’t know why, but it made him angry--even though it probably wasn’t right to be angry at a very ill, delirious teenager.

“Here. Sunnyvale.”

A surprisingly lucid answer. Good.

“Got anyone we can call?”

“...Two older siblings. Please don’t tell them. Please,” the stranger said, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t want them to cry…”

“We have to let them know what’s happened. We’ve gotta get you help,” Riku said.

“I can’t tell them I’m dead.”

Riku stopped walking. He shot Sora an incredulous look. “Hey,” he hissed, jostling the stranger on his back a bit. “We found you, you’re alive. Keep it the fuck together.”

He looked like he was going to vomit. Maybe shaking him wasn’t such a good idea. But he figured it was probably the right thing to do to keep talking to him, keep asking him questions, whether the responses made sense or not. The stranger’s arms were all akimbo dangling loosely over his shoulders, and Riku was afraid of letting his fever pull him under.

“What’s your name? I’m Riku, and the guy you keep calling a ghost is Sora.”

It took a little while for him to answer the question as he fought the grip of fevered sleep. Even under his many layers of jackets, he shivered like the leaves in the trees above when the wind blew through the high walls of the creek.

“It’s Ventus,” he said finally. “But you can call me Ven.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flying Model Rockets - The Front Bottoms
> 
> I'm hoping I'll be able to start posting chapters regularly again if I can get my momentum back from having to take a break from it for a month and a half. I like having at least a few buffer chapters waiting. There's still miles of stuff ahead.
> 
> As always feel free to hmu at Koukoupepia @ tumblr


	10. Six Days At the Bottom of the Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got an influx of attention on this since I posted the last chapter and I gotta say!!! thank you so much!!! for just, like, reading it.
> 
> If you don't follow me on Tumblr, here's the art I did for Ch. 9 [[HERE]](http://koukouvayia.tumblr.com/post/173945911408/i-made-some-art-to-go-with-ch-9-of-my-apocalypse)
> 
> And very special, I made a playlist with all chapter titles and songs referenced up till this chapter [[HERE]](https://playmoss.com/en/koukouvayia/playlist/vaka)
> 
>  
> 
> Welcome to what's probably the midway point.

The earliest dream Sora could remember was when he was five years old, and he woke the next morning with a hollow feeling in his chest trying to digest that fact that his brother was dead--before he remembered that Roxas was in fact  _ not _ dead, and was still asleep in the bunk above. 

It was around then, too, when Roxas began to wake up in the middle of the night to climb down from the top bunk and insert himself between Sora and the wall. 

It must be an intrinsic quality of being a sibling, he figured. He never stopped having that dream.

  
  
  


Slumped against Riku’s side in the backseat of Lea’s car, Ventus was not nearly as dead as he thought he was. From his spot in the passenger seat Sora could see Lea wince every time Ventus sounded like we was beginning to retch. At home, they’d dried him off and dressed him in a (decidedly too large) sweater and pair of sweatpants which belonged to Riku, but they hadn’t been able to coerce him into drinking, nor had they been able to quell his nausea. Every time Ventus bowed forward over the bucket he gripped loosely on his lap Sora heard him lean back shortly afterward and sigh a horrible tired sigh when nothing happened.

Lea had shown up in the driveway less than ten minutes after Roxas’ frantic phone call, determined to return Ventus to his siblings in one piece (or just most of him, because Sora was almost sure that he was already missing his stomach.) He’d insisted that Sora and Riku accompany him if only just to sit with Ventus and make sure he didn’t sway and crack his head against the window. 

The driveway Lea pulled into belonged to a two story house shadowed by the bare and gnarled branches of a large maple tree. In lieu of a lawn was a thoughtfully landscaped garden of native plants nestled among a stone pathway. Beyond that, under the overhang, crouched two figures--a tall one, and a taller one--whose faces became distorted by the rain which trickled down the windshield without resistance when Lea removed the key from the ignition and the windshield wipers came to a rest. 

Sora watched everything happen in slow motion. He watched the two figures bolt for the car at a full sprint; he watched Lea get out and greet the tall one who gripped his fingers firmly, her voice tense but trembling as she spoke to him; he watched Riku push open the door and allow the taller one to bundle Ventus into his arms and hold him tight against his chest; he watched the rain falling, soaking their hair and shoulders. The illusion was broken when he felt Riku brush his hand lightly and say, “C’mon.”

The tall one hurried them inside the house where she breathlessly introduced herself as Aqua, and the taller one as her brother Terra. They both looked tired and disheveled; there was what appeared to be an old coffee stain on the front of Aqua’s maroon zip hoodie, and Terra’s shirt was wrinkled like he had slept in it. Despite this, the voice in Sora’s head that never failed to provide him with the most inconvenient thoughts at the most inappropriate times said,  _ Good god, what a good-looking pair of people.  _

When Terra sat himself on the living room couch with Ventus still in his arms, Aqua leaned heavily against him, brushing Ventus’ hair away from his sweaty forehead with her knuckles. 

“Ven,” mumbled Terra, his brows furrowed sharply into a V-shape.

“Ventus,” Aqua said to him with the same severity Sora’s parents used to use when he was in big trouble. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” Ventus hiccuped into Terra’s chest.  “I was fine, and then I got a fever, and I thought… thought it was… uh...” He paused to take a ragged breath, his eyes swimming. “I didn’t want to make you sick, so I left. But I kept waking up, and I got scared.” 

“Ven, listen to me,” Terra said squeezing his shoulder. “ _ We’re _ supposed to take care of you when you get sick. Don’t go off doing the opposite. You’re our baby brother now, and I’m never gonna let you forget it.”

Ventus let out a dry laugh. His siblings started when it transformed into the retching sound Sora had gotten uncomfortably used to listening to, and the question bombardment began--when did he last drink water? When did he last use the bathroom? How long had he been throwing up? How high was his temperature? Did his muscles ache? But the questions seemed to make him dizzier and he began to slip back into the delerium Sora and Riku had dealt with earlier.

“He’s been calling Sora a ghost this entire time, just so you know,” Riku interjected.

“He, uh, thought he was already dead when we found him,” Sora added.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” Ventus whined into Terra’s chest. 

Aqua processed this with her eyebrows still creased; then, she stood and consulted something on her phone as she disappeared and returned a few minutes later with a thermometer and a cup of crushed ice, which she demanded Ventus ingest and threatened to stick him with an IV if he refused to do so.

“And you said he can’t walk?” She mumbled and stuck the thermometer under Ventus’ tongue. She frowned when the thermometer beeped and she retrieved it from his mouth, but her expression melted into something like a relieved, almost hysteric grin. “You have a high fever, you’ve been throwing up, and you can’t walk--Ven, you have the fucking flu.” 

“What does not being able to walk have to do with the flu?” Lea, who had been uncharacteristically quiet up until that point, spoke up with his arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

“It’s funny, but every time Ventus has ever gotten the flu he couldn’t walk for a couple days,” Aqua laughed. “Dad almost had a heart attack the first time it happened, but he consulted some of his colleagues and as it turns out it’s really uncommon, but sometimes kids’ calf muscles lock up when they’re recovering from the flu. And Ven is just one of those lucky kids, I guess.”

“Terra,” Ventus murmured, pulling his face away from his shirt. Terra tilted his head to listen to him proceed to utter something completely incomprehensible.

“Okay!” Aqua said brightly, clapping her hands together. “I’m calling Aerith and we’ll see if we can’t get you something stronger than Nyquil.”

  
  
  


Sora found himself at the kitchen table with a cup of tea pressed between his palms. Terra and Aqua had left Ventus to rest on the couch after draping no less than three blankets over him and Aqua had made sure he’d eaten  _ all _ his ice chips, but the pair of siblings refused to let them leave without offering some sort of hospitality. He watched Lea making faces at his mug with amusement; it was just green tea--hardly a disagreeable beverage in his own opinion--but he seemed to be struggling with it. 

Aqua had broken her self-serious composure to slouch with her elbows on the table and her head resting in her arms, holding her mug loosely with her index finger. Beside her, Terra rested his chin in his hand. There wasn’t much conversation happening, but Sora could hardly blame them for being quiet. None of them looked like they had slept. 

“Sorry,” Terra mumbled, blowing his bangs out of his face. “Dad would’ve disowned us if we let you guys go without tea or something, and I’m gonna honor that.”

“No problem… Do you happen to have any ‘or something?” Lea asked, but returned to sipping tentatively at his tea when Aqua lifted her head to give him a pointed look.

“I miss him.” Aqua sat up to take a long sip from her mug. Her tired eyes reflected something wistful.

“I do too,” Terra said. Then he grinned. “I miss Professor Dad.”

Aqua laughed and clapped her hand to her cheek. “Professor Dad!” 

“Sorry?” Riku, who had been quiet for a while, shifted his gaze between the two siblings.

“Professor Dad!” Terra laughed again.

“Our dad was this wizened professor type,” Aqua said. “I mean, he was a professor, but he was the older and self-serious kind with salt-and-pepper hair who can be really fun if you’re on his good side.”

“So, one day when we were in second grade, we had the day off because of a teacher holiday but Dad couldn’t leave us at home because he still had classes to teach, so he brought us to school with him,” Terra interrupted. “This was before Ven, so it was just me and Aqua. He let us just run around the campus by ourselves for a while--”

“But then, Terra got a nosebleed, and his nose wouldn’t stop bleeding. There was blood  _ all _ over his face. We were running back to our dad’s classroom--”

“She was dragging me through the hallway and we were getting a lot of concerned looks because there was blood all over my shirt at that point, too--”

“We burst into the room, and--well, it was a lecture classroom, so about a hundred people turn to look at us, and Terra still has blood all over his face looking like he just ate someone. And this huge dork--he just stops and stands in the doorway like,  _ ‘Oh, I completely forgot my dad is a college professor,’ _ and he says--”

_ “Professor Dad!” _

The air was lighter when it was filled with laughter; it had the same cadence as the rain against the windowpane, and it put Sora at ease. He watched the flushed faces of Terra and Aqua, watched their shoulders bobbing up and down, and felt himself smiling. He looked down into his mug and noticed it was empty; Terra offered him more, but Sora excused himself to use the bathroom instead. 

He listened to the sound of the rain bouncing off the leaves of ivy in the planter that hung outside the bathroom window as he stared at himself in the mirror for what felt like a very long time. He touched his cheeks, tracing the creases along the corners of his lips with his fingers. He did not make a face; he just stared until he stopped recognizing his reflection. Maybe Terra and Aqua had the right idea--about the tea, about their dad. The taste of the leaves at the bottom of his cup lingered on his tongue, bitter and pleasant at the same time.

When he finally remembered that he did actually mean to use the bathroom, he heard voices speaking in hushed tones somewhere outside the door. 

“Listen, if there’s anything more I can do…”

“Honestly, you’ve done more than enough for us. Really.”

“Aqua.”

Sora sat himself on the lid of the toilet. He figured it would be more awkward to leave the bathroom at that moment than to stay there for a little while longer. He realized with dismay that he’d left his phone on the kitchen table. 

“You got it into your head that you owe me favors… I was teasing you, Lea. I didn’t mean for you to take it seriously. High school wasn’t even your fault. I was mad, but I wasn’t mad at you. I need you to know this.”

There was a sigh. “I can’t still be… like  _ that. _ ” 

“I don’t know what kinds of things you’re trying to make up for, but friendship isn’t just the mutual exchanging favors. There’s a balance, but it’s not always even all the time. I don’t want you to think that’s what this is.”

“That’s not--that’s not how I feel at all. I like being your friend. You’ve been a hell of a lot better to me than I was to you… or anyone, really. I’m just trying to find the right way to do things.”

A soft chuckle. “You’re trying too hard. We’ll do something fun, just us. Maybe we can even get hammered.”

“I can’t believe you’re like this. Do your brothers know you’re like this?” 

Sora heard them walk past the bathroom door and back out into the kitchen. With the freedom to make noise again, he finished his business and rejoined them. Ventus was awake and sitting at the table with a blanket draped over his shoulders, open bottle of ibuprofen in one hand, holding a glass of water to his lips with intense focus with the other. 

Riku tilted his head toward Sora and mouthed,  _ feeling alright?  _ Sora nodded as he sat down next to him and took a sip from his mug before remembering that it was empty. 

“Um…” Began Sora, eyeing Ventus, who had not set down his glass for a solid five minutes. “Are you starting to feel better?”

Ventus nodded with the glass still pressed against his face. When he finally set it down, he said, “I’m good, ‘cause now Terra gets to carry me around the house.”

“Don’t abuse that privilege, or you’ll get to crawl around on the floor.” Terra was smiling. He reached over to rub his brother’s back with one hand; he stopped and apologized for jostling him when when he emitted a nauseated groan.

Aqua slid a cup of tea towards Ventus. He stared blankly at it for a moment before hiding his nose in it. “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t be sorry,” Sora interrupted.

He looked startled. “What I mean is, um, thanks.”

“If you give us a scare like that again, I swear,” Lea hissed, narrowing his eyes, but he didn’t continue. 

Riku tapped idly at his mug with a fingernail, then said, “Why did you message us?”

“Me an’ Terra made that app. It’s location based, so the posts that you can see are within a certain range from where you are. There aren’t a lot of posts yet; yours was the only one in my feed and I kept seeing it pop up and disappear, so I figured you must be somewhere nearby.” 

“I never knew high school freshmen could be so creepy.”

“Sorry.” 

“Why send them in code?”

“Paranoia. I’m extra sorry.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad we found you and that you’re okay,” Sora said. 

Ventus lifted his face from his mug. Sora could see his lips curl into a shy smile. 

  
  
  


The car was silent on the ride home, save for the rhythm of the rain pounding on the roof. Sora felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Written in plain English, the message contained a single word:  _ “thanks.” _

 

* * *

 

“I’ve been here so long, now my own pillow smells more foreign than yours do,” Riku mused as he examined his new room. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, looking puzzled when he sat on something lumpy. “Oh! You found him,” he said when he rolled the comforter back to reveal small, stuffed white tiger laying with its head on the pillow.

“I saw him in one of your boxes when I brought them in here,” Sora said. “He looked kind of sad, so I tucked him in.”

Riku laughed, then lifted the tiger and pressed it gently against his cheek. “Hmm… he does look kind of sad.” He brushed away the fur around its eyes with his fingers, but the melancholy expression stayed. 

“Does he have a name?”

“I think it was Tyger,” Riku mumbled, still fixing its fur.

“You named your stuffed tiger… Tiger.”

“No. Tyger with a ‘y.”

Sora blinked.

“Like that poem. ‘Tyger, tyger, burning bright, in the forests of the night…’ We read it in elementary school.”

Sora shook his head. “I love how much of a huge dork you secretly are.” He sat down on the edge of the bed when a wave of exhaustion radiated up from his legs and made him dizzy; he lay back to find Riku’s upside down face pursing his lips. “Please don’t make me get up.”

“Actually, scoot over,” Riku said. 

Sora shifted so he lay on his back with his head on the pillow and Riku lay down beside him and let out a deep, tired sigh. It was still raining; for a while, they only breathed and listened to the rain pounding on the roof. Occasionally during the night, Sora would hear a raccoon or a cat dash across the roof. The rain sounded like the mad scrambling of a hundred raccoons. 

Then Riku sighed gently, rolling onto his side so that he was facing away and all Sora saw of him was his back, curled into himself ever so slightly. “Sora,” he began quietly. 

“Yeah?” Sora answered, staring at the spot on the back of Riku’s neck where his curtain of sheepdog-hair separated and left it bare.

“I’m gonna be haunted that the little brother of Lea’s friends quite literally crawled in a hole to die.” He laughed dryly, then fell silent.

“Me too.”  Sora was reminded of the dreams he had of Roxas dying; he figured Aqua and Terra must dream about Ventus, too. He thought about how terrifyingly close that nightmare came to becoming reality, wondered how many times they dreamt of him during his absence, how many more times they’d continue to dream of him gone. 

“If you get sick--”

“I won’t do that.” Sora rolled over, pressing his forehead between Riku’s shoulder blades. “Y’know… Kairi wouldn’t have done anything any of us did—crawling into holes and whatnot. I guess boys are just dumb as rocks.”

“What immortal hand or eye… could make us  _ so _ stupid?” 

Sora laughed into his back, feeling the rising and falling of Riku’s rib cage pressing against the bridge of his nose. 

“Kairi might be mad at us if we sleep through dinner.”

“I think she’ll understand.” 

Sora felt Riku’s hum vibrate against his forehead. Suddenly he was aware of his hands and how he  _ very much _ wanted to wrap his arms around Riku’s chest and squeeze him, but--

That same feeling, the one that had stopped him before--he could feel it again, rising in his gut. Like a humming in a pitch he couldn’t hear, or a color his eyes weren’t made to see. And under it all, he realized that the inclination made him feel just the slightest bit embarrassed.

But Riku could not hear his heartbeat the way Sora could hear his, nor could he see Sora’s face in the case his ears were red. So, Sora slipped an arm tentatively under his, resting it gently over his waist; he felt Riku tense up as he did so, and frightened he might have overstepped his boundaries he began to retrieve it before he felt a warm hand catch his and keep it there. He grinned in secret. As he kept his forehead pressed against his back, Sora wondered if he could telepathically project his thoughts that way. 

_ I’m here,  _ he said in his mind.  _ I’m still here. _

  
  


Sora dreamt of his spring break in Canada when he was ten, about the quaking aspen he’d seen for the first time--he dreamt about the heart-shaped leaves that quivered above him in the wind, and how enamored of the silver color he’d been. He’d run his fingers across the bark, over the dark lenticels like puckered scar tissue. The aspen was many trees. The aspen was one tree. He’d felt that it was watching him--no, that it was watching over him. Like the redwood, he could only embrace a small part of it no matter how hard he tried.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six Days At the Bottom of the Ocean -- Explosions in the Sky
> 
> At the risk of explaining to much to talk about a personal anecdote, when my brother and I were kids we used to not be able to walk after we had the flu and my mom would take us to school in a wagon. My gp had never heard of it and I've never met anyone who had the same problem. Turns out it's something called benign acute myositis. I didnt even find out the name until I googled the symptoms one day I was reeeaaally bored in class. life is weird and kids are fucked up.


	11. Apple Cider, I Don't Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not like me to forgive and move on  
> Always looking back at my mistakes and others  
> Too distant to see where I went wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for all the nice feedback!!! It makes my heart flutter to get comments!!  
> Every time I get ready to post a new chapter and I paste everything into the text box and Ao3 stretches it all out I think "God I spent 2 weeks on this chapter and this is all I wrote???" I think fics are probably meant to be read on your phone so it gives the illusion that there's more writing than there is.

Riku woke up feeling like everything in his life had been moved a little bit to the left. For a moment he could not remember where he was, or why he was lying on his side instead of his back. His stuffed tiger had been tucked neatly into bed beside him with its sad-eyed face just peeking out of the covers. He found his hair dryer on the floor of the bathroom but it didn’t occur to him that it might not belong there until he found Kairi at the kitchen window with her face in her hands, rubbing at her eyes. The corner of the picture frame by the front door was pointing down at the floor.

“Hey,” he said.

Kairi dragged her hands down her face, flesh under her eyelids briefly flashing a bright pink. “Morning,” she replied.

Riku intended to idle for a moment by opening the fridge while he figured out what he wanted to say, but when he stepped onto the hardwood floor his foot was met with a sharp pain. He swore as he recoiled back onto the carpet, clutching his leg. 

“There’s glass on the floor, Riku, I’m so sorry!” Kairi said with frantic hand motions; she gestured to him to show her his foot while she pushed her hair back in exasperation.

“There was an earthquake,” she groaned in response to Riku’s puzzled, open-mouthed stare. “In the middle of the night. It knocked a bunch of things over… and the rain barrels fell off the cinder blocks and tore the downspout away from the side of the house.”

“Shit.” He sat himself on the kitchen chair and as he crossed his foot over his leg to inspect it, he realized he’d bled on the carpet. “Wait, how did I not notice an earthquake big enough to knock things over?” 

“You were so dead asleep you probably wouldn’t have noticed if something fell on your head. Neither Sora nor I could wake you up for dinner,” she said, grinning. She disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a pair of tweezers and a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. It hurt worse when she dabbed at the wound with the cotton than it did when she removed the shard of glass.

“How did I miss dinner? How did I sleep for sixteen hours straight? Kairi, I just realized I’m not wearing my pajamas. I think I slipped into a small coma.”

Kairi’s face turned pink when she giggled; Riku watched her shoulders bob up and down as she applied a Band-Aid to the bottom of his foot. But the moment was brief, and she returned to the tired sighing she always seemed to be doing. 

“I’ll fix the the downspout,” he offered.  She made a face at him like she had gas. “Okay, I can’t fix it, but I can drive you to Home Depot.

Kairi’s lips curled into a small grin. Riku squeezed his eyes shut when she kissed him on the cheek.

 

 

 

 

The twins were yelling at each other again, but this time it was over a moldy stretch of rope they’d found hiding somewhere in the storage room which they had returned with instead of the toolbox Kairi had asked for. 

“Ice cream soda, cherry on t--Roxas, get it together!”

A strange consequence of the world without TV was that it seemed to return the playfulness Riku thought he’d lost, and he found himself less adverse to playing stupid games; there wasn’t really anyone around to think they were stupid but him anyway. Riku, who had let himself be coerced into jumping rope, was standing across the backyard opposite to Sora and holding the other end of the rope over the soggy grass while Roxas hopped and stumbled over it in the center. Roxas was decidedly less nimble than his brother and he struggled to get farther in the rhyme than the letter “A” even when they slowed the motion of the ropes. 

“Fuck you, Sora, you know I can’t double dutch!” He hissed, his brows creasing further every time he tripped until he announced with a huff that he was taking a break. 

Kairi sat on the edge of the patio, watching them with her feet in the grass and a coffee mug in her lap. She stood and set her mug down on the ground when Roxas sat next to her and assumed her position at the center of the rope, demanding they swing both of them this time and not to go easy. 

“Ice cream soda, cherry on top; who’s your boyfriend, I forgot,” Sora chanted.

She made it through the entire alphabet once and nearly made it twice, but halfway through the second round she decided to try some fancy footing which tripped her up on the letter “X.”

“Do I know someone with a name that starts with X?” She said, pushing her hair out of her face.

“My best friend, you asshole,” Roxas yelled from across the yard. 

Kairi shrugged and took hold of the rope at Sora’s end. Riku watched him go through the rhyme three times, guiltily hoping he’d land on the first letter of his name, but he stumbled on “ice cream.” 

Riku stepped into the center when Sora decided he was tired. He went once, then twice, demanding his friends to swing faster. Three, four, more times he went through the rhyme.

“You’re doing amazing, but my arms hurt,” Sora said. “Any chance you’re gonna mess up soon?” 

“Nope.”

“You’re such a show off,” Roxas groaned.

Riku stuck his tongue out at him. He was getting tired though, and on the fifth run he decided he’d stop in the middle but tripped up trying to decide where. His choice of letter was a bit unfortunate.

“Selphie!” Sora laughed.

Riku noticed Kairi narrow her eyes, staring at him with her lips curled upwards ever slightly. “Let’s go to Home Depot,” she said.

  
  
  
  


“What have we got to bargain with?” Riku asked Kairi once they were in the car.

“Some old jackets, a few packs of batteries, and a bag of persimmons.”

The roads were still slick with rain from the day before. The sun had been out all morning, but there were dark clouds hovering over the mountains to the west threatening to close in. Out of the corner of his eye, Riku could see the curtain of rain making its way slowly over the foothills as he drove. 

Kairi rested her elbow on the car door with her hand on her chin; he knew she was working on something in her head, because there was always a sort of energy that happened in the air when thoughts were about to become words. But as he pulled into the empty parking lot of the Home Depot, she held onto whatever it was she was going to say. 

Inside the building, most of the lights were off, but the automatic doors still worked. The store still had the comfortable smell of wood and paint, but it was in deep contrast to the dark store almost entirely void of people. The shelves were only half stocked, and all the non-native plants in the nursery were dead. He followed Kairi through the dark isles, trusting her to know what she was looking for. He felt a twinge of disappointment when they passed the lighting section and he noticed that it had all been turned off. Being dazzled by a mass of lamps was the only good part of going to the hardware store.

Kairi jumped when a rough voice behind them said, “Can I help you kids with anything?”

The voice belonged to a man—oh jesus fuck, it was an adult. Before them loomed a tall and slim man whose long, dark hair was fixed into a tight ponytail, and Riku noticed that it was was even streaked with grey. He wore a patch over one eye and the other half of his face was puckered with an old and fading scar. He was the most weathered person Riku had ever seen. The orange Home Depot apron looked silly on him. But Riku wasn’t done doing a double take at seeing someone alive and likely approaching fifty standing directly in front of him, because, what the fuck, it was an  _ adult. _ Kairi was apparently having the same experience, because she was staring up at him with her mouth open slightly and her eyebrows high enough to touch the ceiling.

“You two done gawking yet?” The man said, crossing his arms. “Do you need help or not?”

“Sorry, it’s just—“ Riku started.

“I know what you’re about to say and I don’t want to fucking hear it,” said the man. 

He turned to walk away before Kairi blurted, “Downspout. Need to fix a broken downspout.” 

The man turned around again, motioning for them to follow him. Kairi, who had not put her eyebrows back down, mouthed,  _ how?  _ Riku shrugged so hard it hurt his shoulders. 

“That all?” The man asked when Kairi’s arms were full of supplies.

“Wait,” she said, and began to hurry off to the other end of the store. 

Riku found her in the lumber section staring longingly up at the long boards of pine wood. 

“How much wood do you think I’d need to build a treehouse?” She said, her eyes glittering. 

“Y’have to run off like that?” came the rough voice of the man from before, approaching them with his arms crossed. “I’m not as young as you, if you haven’t already noticed.”

“How much wood do I need to build a simple treehouse?” Kairi repeated. 

“First, what have you got for me?” He said, pointing to the supplies in Kairi’s arms.

“Jackets, a few packs of batteries, and a bag of persimmons. Or fifty dollars, if you’d rather have that.”

“Hmm… I’ll take a pack of batteries and the persimmons. Keep the rest.”

“What about the treehouse?” Riku pressed. 

“You kids are cute. Tell you what,” he said, uncrossing his arms. “You come back with more persimmons, I’ll get you what you need.” 

“That’s it? Are you sure?” 

The man let out a strange wheezing laugh. “Don’t make me change my mind. I have nothing more in this world to lose and everything to gain.”

“Thanks, uh…” Kairi leaned to the side, trying to decipher his nametag.

“Xigbar.”

“Xigbar? Kairi, it’s your boyfriend.” Riku elbowed her in the shoulder.

“The fuck you going on about?”

Kairi giggled until her face turned pink. “Sorry. Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it.”

  
  


By the time they returned to the car in the parking lot clouds had overtaken the sun. It felt like the darkness inside the store had followed them outside, and Kairi was quiet again. She sat with her hands clasped together in her lap, still solving problems in her head.

“Are you ever going to tell him?” She said suddenly.

“Wh--tell who, what?”

“Oh, please, Riku. I know you know what I’m talking about.”

Riku gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “No, I’m not. I’m not going to tell him.”

She gave him a pointed look.

“He’s been my best friend since preschool, Kairi. I can’t… I can’t ruin something like that. I can’t do that to him.”

“You have a funny idea of what ruining something entails,” she mumbled, resting her chin in her hand. “And I really don’t think it’ll turn out as bad as you think it will.”

“You don’t understand--”

“I  _ do _ understand!” She brought her hands down onto her thighs forcefully and sat up straight. “Sora and I, we dated for a little while.”

Riku fumbled with the steering wheel, nearly making the car swerve. “ _ What? _ How come I never knew about this?”   


“It was when we were in eighth grade.”

“...Oh.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot. We didn’t date for very long--a couple months, maybe. It just wasn’t what we wanted from each other. But you know…” She leaned back in her seat again. “He’s my best friend, too, and it turned out even better in the end.”

Riku let his fingers relax. “When did you figure me out?”

“Seventh grade. Sora’s the only other person you’ve ever let touch you. But it was around that time you kinda… started looking at him, like, a lot.”

“You knew I--and you still--”

Kairi shrugged. “Sometimes I’m selfish.”

She returned to staring out the window, her hands in her lap. Riku watched the sky open up above them.

 

* * *

 

Xion was in a good mood. She wasn’t entirely sure where it came from, but the voice in her head that berated her and offered her unproductive advice had finally decided to be quiet, so she wasn’t about to complain. She was out of recycling to crush, anyway. So she went for a walk to enjoy the gloomy weather and filled the absent noise by humming the tune to a song with a name she couldn’t remember. 

She wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but her sudden elevation in mood may or may not have had something to do with texts from Naminé becoming a new constant. It had been a long time since there were more than two people who ever wanted to speak to her.  _ Your card of the week is the Two of Pentacles reversed, _ Naminé would say.  _ Technically, not good. Realistically? You don’t have to listen to a piece of paper. I swear I’ll make sure you have a good week. _ Xion’s lips curled into a small grin which she hid behind her fingers, because if Lea ever caught her smiling at her phone, his teasing would only increase by magnitudes.

She found a pomegranate tree in the neighborhood on the other side of the major street she never used to cross because it had been terrifyingly busy. It was considerably large for a pomegranate tree; she figured it must have been growing there since the days when the city had been entirely orchards, a hundred years before Steve Jobs was even around to think about building computers in his garage, before the partially finished skeleton of Apple’s new headquarters--which local residents so affectionately referred to as “The Spaceship”--would ever come to decay where real apples once grew. She stuffed as many of its fruits into her front pocket as she could until she couldn’t fit any more and they began to fall out when she walked. 

At some point in the midst of reaching for fruit in the higher branches above her head and cursing the genes that had made her so short, she felt her phone vibrate in her pants pocket. She fished it out and found it was a text from Lea.

_ gonna be out a while. left door unlocked in case u forgot house keys.  _

A raindrop splashed onto the screen of her phone as she held it; she glanced upward reflexively as another landed on her cheek. She’d been too preoccupied with the pomegranates to notice the wind picking up, and she cursed loudly when she realized she had neither a raincoat nor an umbrella to shield her from the rain. Xion walked hurriedly with one hand protecting the fruit in her pocket while she held her other arm uselessly over her head. 

The rain came down with force, cold and relentless. It soaked her hair and shoulders, and by the time she made it back to the townhouse complex her shoes were making a squelching noise. She abandoned them on the front step before she let herself inside, leaving a trail of rainwater along the floor up to her bedroom. She returned to the kitchen in dry clothes and eyed the pomegranates she’d left on the kitchen table. If she cut them, she could stuff her face with a couple and leave the rest in the refrigerator for Lea, who would inevitably reach them before her otherwise. 

Xion was pleasantly surprised at the lack of conversation between her, the voice in her head, and the kitchen knife in her hand when she cut the fruit open.  _ Hey, you know what would be cool? What if you jabbed that knife right into your neck, like so. That would be awesome _ , the voice would say. That’s not very helpful right now, she would reply.  _ How about your fingers--just slice ‘em up, like a carrot; it’d probably be just as easy _ . Shut up.  _ What about plunging that thing into your thigh and bleeding out on the floor? _ And back in the drawer you go.

She was in the midst of cramming a handful of ruby seeds into her mouth when her phone buzzed again.

_ the WEIRDEST fuckin thign just happened, _ said a text from Roxas. She sent him a few question marks.  _ oh hold on i have too many words to say about this. call you in 10 min? _

She texted back,  _ Cool, _ spooned the rest of the pomegranate seeds into a tupperware container, and shoved them into the fridge. She meant to return upstairs to fetch her good headphones with the microphone while she waited for Roxas to call, but the partially open door to Lea’s bedroom caught her eye from the landing. She begrudgingly put up with Lea invading her privacy--barging into her room and borrowing her things without asking half the time--but she hadn’t been inside his own room very often. Cautiously, she pawed the door open further and wandered inside.

The room was irritatingly messy; the comforter was rolled into a ball in the center of the bed, and a mound of clothes were piled onto a chair which sat in front of a desk, dusty in its disuse. It smelled vaguely of cigarette smoke, the same way Lea did. The blinds were pulled half shut, and through them Xion could see the rain dripping down the windowpane. The walls were mostly bare save for the telltale marks of tape residue where posters once must have hung. A mess of beauty products were scattered atop the dresser. Beside a ring dish filled with mismatched earrings and dollar coins lay a pack of cigarettes. With a twinge of annoyance, Xion wondered how long it would take Lea to notice if she stuffed it in her pocket right now and hid it somewhere under her bed where she’d forget about it.

Hidden in the shadow of the dresser leaned a Casio keyboard, which Xion didn’t notice until she stubbed her toe against it and it fell to the floor with a clatter. She sucked in her breath and picked it up, examining its dusty keys, running her fingers over the plastic which had been discolored by skin oils, lightly pressing the buttons with a clicking noise. She was pleasantly surprised that its batteries were not dead when she turned it on. She carried it out of Lea’s room--frowning at the pack of cigarettes on the dresser as she did so--and carried it into her own bedroom, where she sat on the edge of her bed with the keyboard on her lap. 

She fetched her good headphones from the nightstand and plugged them into her phone while she waited for Roxas to call, fiddling with the keyboard in the meanwhile. After nine years of lessons, piano seemed like a curse that wouldn’t leave her hands. They always remembered how to play even when her mind forgot. She tapped out the melody that had been stuck in her head. It was one of Roxas’ songs, she realized.

_ And when I quit, when it's all o-ver and done with… you'll be the first per-son I tell… _

Her phone rang; she answered it. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” said Roxas’ voice. He sounded out of breath. “I just watched my brother and his best friend take fifteen minutes to strip wet clothes off a delirious ninth-grader.”

Xion listened to him relay everything he’d seen happen, and how he’d called Lea when he figured out that the stranger had been Terra’s missing brother, though he would have called him anyway because he was the only adult he knew. She played idly with the keyboard as she listened. 

_ You’ll be the dis-tance that I fell… The distance that I fell… _

“What’s that sound?” Roxas interrupted himself. “Are you listening to music?”

“It’s, uh, a keyboard I stole from Lea’s room.”

“Keyboard? He let you play it?”

“Emphasis on the word ‘stole.”

“Maybe you should put it back,” he said. 

Something heavy in her belly made itself known. She gripped the keyboard anxiously and returned it to its position in the shadow of the dresser. 

“I didn’t know he had a keyboard,” she said when she was back in her own room, lying back on her bed with her legs folded. “I didn’t know he could play.”

“He can’t. He only plays bass.”

“Huh. I’ve never heard him play guitar, either.” 

“He…” Roxas trailed off. For a few minutes, Xion could only hear his breathing. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard him play.” 

“I wish I could hear him.”

“Me too. It used to make me really happy.”

Xion grinned when she pictured Lea with a guitar on his lap, head lowered and his eyes closed, Roxas somewhere beside him listening with a content smile on his face. And the guitar would be a bright red, shiny like a candy apple, with six strings and a bolt-on neck. She wondered how much it would take to make her mental image real. 

They spoke about nothing in particular for a little while longer. When they said goodbye, Xion turned onto her side and stared at the trails of raindrops traveling down the windowpane, unfocusing her vision until the world around her became pleasantly fuzzy. 

She thought, maybe the only reason she ever kept playing the spinet piano in the band practice room at the back of the school was because Lea—and then, Roxas—were there to listen. 

  
  
  


It was in the middle of the night, after the moon had set and her room had been sunk into ink black darkness, when Xion felt the earth roll like a wave beneath her. It lasted long enough for her to realize what was happening and to squeeze herself underneath the bed frame where she lay listening to the house groan and the window blinds rattle, and when it was over she remained there for a moment watching the shadow of the ceiling fan shuddering while a car alarm echoed somewhere in the distance. Then she bolted for the door and found herself calling Lea’s name over and over until she stopped recognizing the word. 

She could see him at the other end of the hallway when he turned on the light. She stayed where she was, pressing her palms firmly against the doorframe until her fingers turned white, still calling for him. 

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, prying her hands away from the doorframe, and then kneeling and squeezing her shoulders. “It’s fine, now.” 

She stood in front of him breathing heavily until she calmed down enough to realize that she was uncomfortably sweaty. 

“I never knew you were so scared of earthquakes.”

“Sorry. It’s stupid,  _ especially _ considering where we live.” 

“Naw,” Lea said. “Earthquakes are scary. There aren’t many things scarier than the only ground you have to stand on being unreliable.” He rubbed her arms a bit before he stood back up. Xion felt a wash of relief that he knew her well enough to place a palm on her back and say, “Let’s go to the kitchen, yeah?”

There were a few freezer-burned bomb pops at the back of the freezer, and they were probably the ones they bought from the Safeway adjacent to the field where they had watched the fireworks on the Fourth of July, but she was grateful despite the extra ice crystals. She stopped sweating and started wondering if her tongue had turned purple yet instead. 

“Thanks for... this,” she murmured as she sat cross-legged on the kitchen chair, chewing idly on the popsicle stick until it splintered. “My parents would have called me a wuss and gone back to bed.”

“Good thing I’m here then, huh?” 

Xion tried to smile at him, but it came out crooked.

Good thing.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apple Cider, I Don't Mind -- Modern Baseball  
> Xion's song is The Distance That I Fell by The Front Bottoms
> 
>  
> 
> Guess who my other favorite org member is. 
> 
> Also, Kairi's been wringing her hands at Riku for like two years.


	12. Be Nice To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can we talk about this later?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank u so much for all the feedback!!! 
> 
> This is the shortest chapter I've written, but it's probably my favorite. Warning for underage drinking and general teenage irresponsibility.
> 
> The second playlist, which I'll keep updating with every new chapter, can be found [[HERE]](https://playmoss.com/en/koukouvayia/playlist/vaka-part-2)

Roxas wasn’t sure what he’d expected—maybe a new outlook on life and a sense of authority—but turning thirteen felt very much like every other birthday, though it did come with a sort of fanfare in the form of Sora bursting into his room early in the morning and pouncing on the bed, shouting, “Roxas! We’re thirteen today! We’re _teenagers!_ ”

 _Great,_ he thought, _now I have a real excuse to be moody and irritable. My voice is cracking and my skin hurts._  But he didn’t say it out loud, ‘cause, well, it was Sora’s birthday, too.

They held their party at the local pool, not even renting out the pool house, just lounging  on the reclining chairs and eating potato chips from the edge of the water. They swam until they got sunburnt and their fingers were pruny and the potato chips were soggy and tasted like chlorine, and then they went home and ate pizza and played Super Smash Bros until Roxas’ thumbs hurt. When the sun was setting, they blew out the candles on an ice cream cake (sweet cream and strawberry) and opened gifts.

The great thing about friends that had known Roxas and Sora for any significant amount of time was that they knew they were _different._ Riku and Kairi would not dare assume that Sora shared every single one of his interests, and Hayner, Pence, and Olette would not assume the inverse. Roxas teased Sora as he wept upon opening the strangely shaped gift Kairi had presented him--a bow she’d made herself, carefully crafted and smelling of lacquer, with a grip decorated with turquoise and yellow--and Riku’s companion gift, a set of arrows with turkey feather fletching. From his own friends who had pooled their money together, Roxas received an iTunes gift card worth fifty dollars and a pair of limited edition Converse.

It had been a good day, Roxas supposed, after everyone had gone home and he lay awake in bed, still feeling the weightlessness of being in the water and the sting of chlorine in his eyes. But there was a dull ache of disappointment when he had asked Axel to come, but he had not shown up. He turned onto his side and prepared to fall asleep when he heard his phone ring. He got up, rummaged around in his backpack for it, and checked the time on the front LED display before flipping it open and pressing it to his ear.

“Happy birthday, Roxas,” said Axel’s voice on the other end. “Sorry I couldn’t come to your party. I should have let you know sooner.”

“It’s okay, it’s just a party,” Roxas sighed into the phone, making a crackling noise over the line.

“Listen,” Axel said, “My band has a gig at some rich jerk’s house up in the foothills tomorrow night, and I want you to come. Think of it as a second birthday party.”

“Okay. But I have to go to bed now, it’s late.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re still a baby and you need your beauty sleep,” Axel laughed. “Welcome to the teenager club, Rox.”

Roxas stuffed his phone under his pillow, rolled onto his side, and closed his eyes. Yeah, it had been a good day.

  
  


It was a huge house—two stories, a pool, and a three-car garage hidden by the downward slope of the driveway. When Larxene pulled up in front, Roxas couldn’t help but notice the bright red Ferrari parked across the street. He supposed this is what he’d do with his money if he was a Silicon Valley fat cat, but he definitely wouldn’t have any kids to throw a party in his huge expensive house in the hills (which he’d _bought_ of course, and not rented) and destroy everything. Demyx and Zexion showed up fifteen minutes later in a beat-up minivan from which Demyx wheeled out a carefully packed drum set on a hand truck while Zexion hovered over him, saying that if he wasn’t careful with it he’d shove his foot so far up his ass he’d be able to taste the gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe.

It was late in the afternoon, but still a few hours before Axel and his friends were scheduled to play. The only ones at the house were the ones who lived there and their friends: a group of college-aged boys who, to Roxas, seemed intimidatingly adult--even more so than Demyx and Larxene, who were eighteen. Something about them made Roxas feel terribly uneasy but he chalked it up to just being at a stranger’s house without permission, because he had told his parents that he was going to Larxene’s house to watch the band practice and wouldn’t be home for dinner. The truth wasn’t really that far off.

The band set up in the garage, which was spacious and almost completely empty otherwise. When he got bored of watching them struggle with reassembling the drum set, Roxas sat cross-legged at the edge of the pool, pawing at the water while he nursed a Coke. The mountains loomed close, and as the sun began to sink behind them they cast deep blue shadows that cut through the warm and golden evening light. He shivered when they overtook the spot where he sat, but he stayed where he was.

“Hey, you,” said Axel’s voice.

Roxas tilted his head to see him emerge from the backyard door and come to squat beside him. He noticed he’d put on makeup at some point--dark winged eyeliner and a deep plum colored smokey eye. What he found most curious was that he had purposely made it look as if he had ruined it by crying--he’d drawn two dark tears on each side of his face, down from his waterline to his cheek. Along with his fire-engine red hair done up in a ponytail, choker, and entirely black outfit, Roxas thought he looked cool.

Axel fumbled with something in the pocket of his vest. He pulled out a CD and held it under Roxas’ nose. “I wanted to give you this,” he said.

Roxas crossed his eyes and inspected the cover. _I Hate My Friends._ He set down his Coke and took it gingerly with both hands, then pressed it to his chest. “Really? You’re giving this to me? Are you sure?”

“Of course. You’ve asked to borrow this album a lot more often than I’ve actually listened to it. I think you should have it.”

Roxas flung his arms around him, pressing himself awkwardly against his bony side, feeling the vibration in Axel’s chest when he laughed. Axel tousled his hair when he pulled away: Roxas felt his face burning.

It was getting a bit chilly to be outside without a jacket. He followed Axel back inside the house, gently swinging his half-empty can of Coke back and forth and listening to the soda sloshing around inside. From the living room window, he could see Larxene and Demyx smoking in the front yard. He supposed Isa was probably wherever Axel had wandered off to. Zexion was slouched over in the loveseat, hair falling over his face, the one eye of his that was not covered by hair focused on the book he was reading. Roxas sat himself on the adjacent couch, ignoring his blatant display of _“don’t bother me.”_

“What’re you reading?”

Zexion rolled his eyes, but answered him anyway. “ _The Plague._ It’s for school.”

“Cool. What’s it about?”

“A plague.”

Roxas shot him an incredulous look.

“Look, it’s a boring as hell book. All you need to know is that Camus was big into absurdism because it’s all he ever wrote about, which is a lot like existentialism, except it’s not.”

“Existentialism is like… how your existence doesn’t matter to the universe, right?”

“Basically. Once you figure out that the universe is a cold and uncaring bitch, you can do one of two things: you can accept it, or you can kill yourself,” said Zexion, slouching further back into the couch. “Camus didn’t believe in distracting ourselves. He loved art and music, though. But who’s to say whether we’re distracting ourselves or not.”

Zexion turned back to his book. Roxas gazed down at the CD in his hands, thumbing the plastic surface of the jewel case and smudging it ever so slightly with his oily fingerprints. Then he looked at his wrists and the underside of his forearms, where the skin was red from where he always scratched at them. Was music a distraction? He didn’t understand the science behind it, but it made him feel better when he felt bad.

When guests began arriving—more college-aged kids who mulled about the garage and the backyard while others lingered in the kitchen around coolers full up with soda and beer—Roxas stole away to the front yard where he stood under the porch lights and watched them drive up the street in expensive cars. There was music playing at an obnoxious volume. He still held onto his Coke can, though it had been empty for a while now. He saw Axel in the living room through the window behind him, laughing about something and leaning with an elbow on Isa’s shoulder; Isa was laughing too, his lips curled upward in a grin—an expression Roxas saw appear in his face only once in a blue moon. But when Axel spotted him through the window and got up to move toward the front door, Isa’s lips returned to their usual pursed form.

“You doing okay out here?” Axel said, peeking out from the doorway.

“It’s a bit loud, is all.”

He joined Roxas under the porch lights, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned against the wall.

“Can I ask you something?” Roxas said, looking up at him but not focusing on his face, just staring at his jawline and the stray hairs in front of his ears. “Music makes you feel better, right?”

“Sure.”

“Zexion said something really weird that I didn’t understand.”

Axel laughed a barking laugh. “Don’t talk to Zexion when he’s reading.”

Roxas lowered his gaze to stare at his feet. “Everything hurts all the time. I just wanna feel better.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said, his head lolling back against the wall. “There’s music inside you. The very first music there ever was.”

“What does that even mean?”

Axel tapped at Roxas’s chest. “Your heartbeat, man. Your heartbeat.”

He smirked and punched Axel in the arm. “That’s the lamest thing I ever heard you say.”

“That’s what my guitar teacher taught me, so watch your mouth.” He was grinning, though.

  
  


It was loud, so loud, and Roxas felt claustrophobic squished between so many taller people but he was halfway through a second can of Coke and he felt good. He could just barely see the top of Axel’s head dancing like a flame above the crowd, but that was enough for him. He was lost between the drum of the music and reverb in his chest, awash in pride seeing his friends perform for a crowd larger than just himself.

The two sodas caught up to him, at some point. He managed to squeeze himself through the mass of sweaty people and back into the house, grateful that he was almost the only person inside. He made his way back from the bathroom and entered the kitchen to claim a third Coke, but he paused when he did so. _It’s just me in the kitchen_ , he realized, eyeing the other cooler. He could take a beer. He could take it and no one would know.

So he did.

It was gross, disgusting, awful--every manner of _bad_ Roxas could think of, but he was on a mission from god to drink that can as fast as he could and that was what he was gonna do. It was for nothing more than the novelty of it, getting away with doing something he wasn’t supposed to. It went up his nose and gave him hiccups, made worse by the fact that he hadn’t eaten dinner. He was halfway through when he got to thinking that, as long as he kept his hands cupped around the can, he could get away with looking like he was drinking a soda. So he ambled back into the garage, carefully covering the logo on the can with his palms as he squeezed himself back into the center of the crowd.

A couple songs later the harsh vibrations of the electric guitar exacerbated by the less than satisfactory acoustics in the garage stopped hurting Roxas’ ears and died down to a inoffensive thrum. He was sweaty and his face felt hot. He felt himself smiling a wide and stupid grin.

Did they always sound that good?

His legs ached, but he kept swaying and bobbing his head. He hadn’t realized he’d made it almost to the front; through the spaces between the multitude of shoulders and elbows he could see Axel, stray hairs sticking to his sweaty forehead, makeup still perfect, looking completely in the moment. Demyx spotted him first. He gave him a wink of acknowledgement. Larxene noticed him as well and stuck her tongue out at him; Roxas stuck his tongue out back at her. And when Axel opened his eyes and saw him swaying in the crowd, red-faced and smiling, he grinned back and Roxas could see the green of his eyes glowing in dim light.

“This next one’s a cover,” Axel said into the microphone when they finished the last song, “For our friend. Happy birthday, buddy.”

Maybe Axel hadn’t listened to the CD he’d given him, but he’d listened to Roxas listen to it enough to know which song was his favorite. He was dizzy with gratitude. His vision was a bit blurry.

_I’m gonna get on my knees, would you kick me in the face, please…._

Maybe he was dizzy with something else. His face really burned.

_And as my gums begin to bleed, the words will fall like teeth…_

He’d never enjoyed anything as much as this moment. His chest felt full.

_I’m scared I’m gonna die as lonely as I feel. I’m scared I’m gonna die as lonely as I feel right now._

He didn’t feel so good.

Roxas kept his eyes at the top of Axel’s head, ‘cause the ground was moving and that was the only constant he had. The music stopped at some point and the garage emptied, and Zexion was in middle of disassembling the drum set.

“Roxas!” Demyx called, more stray strands of hair hanging over his face than usual. “What are you doing standing around over there?”

“Yeah,” said Roxas blankly. He realized he’d lost track of Axel’s hair.

“Feeling alright?”

“I’m tired.”

Larxene squinted at him and smirked. “Aw. Baby’s up past his bedtime.”

“Larxene. Shut up.” Zexion grunted, struggling with a pair of cymbals. “I think Axel went to use the bathroom, if you’re looking for him.”

Roxas stubbed his toes on the step leading back inside the house. He threw the empty beer can in the recycling bin and tried to remember where the bathroom was.  He wandered around the house for a while, muttering to himself about his smarting toes, until he spotted Axel’s shadow at the end of a hallway.

Isa was with him. They were leaning against the wall, shoulders touching, laughing about something the way they were when Roxas had seen them through the living room window, but quietly. The way he saw his brother laugh with Riku and Kairi sometimes—like it was just them in the whole world. It made his stomach sour in envy, but he did not possess the higher judgement to either leave them alone out of consideration or to ruin their moment out of spite.

“Axel,” he interrupted, watching Isa’s eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. “I don’t feel good. I wanna go home.”

Axel’s eyes widened as he looked him up and down, the corners of his mouth stretching into a twisted grin. “Holy shit. You’re drunk,” he cackled.

Roxas stared at him, exasperated. “I wanna go home,” he repeated.

Axel was still laughing.

“This isn’t funny.” Isa gave Axel a hard stare, his voice a low growl. “Take him home.”

  


Roxas threw up in the bushes by the driveway. He crouched there in the dark while Isa—who had hardly ever said a word to him, so much as a kind one—rubbed his back. Axel hung back with Larxene a few feet away, leaning idly against the side of her car while she smoked.

“The others need the minivan, so Larxene will drive you home,” he said. “Sorry about that. I’ll make sure she drives carefully.”

Roxas tried to say “thanks,” but it came out as a pitiful groan. He felt stupid. He wanted to cry.

He lay in the back seat with his head resting on Axel’s thigh, seat belt cutting into his stomach, watching the orange glow of the street lights flashing and casting strange shadows inside the car. With his nose so close to the seat he could smell the lingering stench of cigarette smoke that had long settled into its fibers.

“Larxene, why do you smoke?” He mumbled. “No one who lives here ever smokes.”

“She started ‘cause she thought it looked cool, and now she can’t stop,” Axel said.

“Axel, I smoke because of _you._ ”

Roxas began to hum, because he was entertained by the way the vibration of his throat against Axel’s leg felt.

_Scared I’m gonna die…_

He couldn’t remember the rest of the words.

_Scared I’m gonna die._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be Nice To Me -- The Front Bottoms
> 
> The album "I Hate My Friends" is the first album The Front Bottoms, but as far as I know you can't get your hands on it anymore. It includes Lipstick Covered Magnet, which I had be Roxas' favorite song.
> 
> The heartbeat as the "first music" is something my mom used to repeat to me all the time when I was younger, which she learned from /her/ guitar teacher.


	13. The Henney Buggy Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I kissed you on the face; I kissed you on the playground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been a little while since I've updated. As always, thank you so much for all the feedback!!
> 
> Here is what I started referring to as the Hell Chapter because of how torturous it was and how long it took me to finish. It's a bit of a mess despite revisiting it constantly over the past few months as I worked on later chapters. I don't know if I'm happy with it, but oh well.

_ When he was fourteen, things began to hurt. It wasn’t like the time he’d fallen off the play structure at the park, and it wasn’t like the concussion he’d gotten playing Capture-the-Flag. It was something Sora was unfamiliar with—pain in strange, indeterminable places. In his muscles, in his bones, and probably his spleen, but he couldn’t tell. _

_ He thought maybe he’d begun to understand now, why Roxas spent so much time lying in the slide at the park listening to the same two songs on repeat. Why sometimes he would go outside and punch the side of the house until his knuckles bled. Why he started wearing long sleeves. But he wasn’t sure. _

_ Eighth grade sucked. He didn’t understand his homework, he didn’t get enough sleep, and buying cookies and Gatorade from the a la carte line at brunch had stopped being novel halfway through sixth grade. Plus, there was something about that last year of middle school that transformed kids into the meanest people on earth. Classmates he thought he got along with suddenly wanted to shove him into his locker, and there were words which they called him with such venom in their voices it echoed in his mind and returned to haunt him in his sleep.  _

_ There were only two things he looked forward to during the week, and that was seeing Kairi at lunch, and meeting Riku after school. That was the other thing—Sora missed Riku during the day.  When he started high school it felt like he’d moved to a different planet and left him behind.  _  
  


_ Kairi had field hockey practice after school and aside from the weekends, Sora saw her only at lunch and in between classes. For a while it was just Sora and Riku in the afternoons. Sometimes Riku took him to the cafe on the corner facing a major street half a mile up from the high school. It was a quirky but warm place. Sora hadn’t known Riku had such an affinity for caffeine. Usually, Sora just ordered an iced tea. When he was feeling brave, he ordered a mocha with extra whipped cream. Riku sat across from him with his homework spread neatly before him, his face illuminated by the curtain of gold afternoon light falling through the window, drinking from a steaming cappuccino cup despite the autumn heat. His hair was getting a bit long and it was beginning to fall over his eyes; sometimes, when they were working together in silence, from his periphery Sora caught him staring at him with a faraway expression from under the shadow of his bangs.  _

_ Other times, Sora brought Riku home and they did their homework on the floor of his room. That was always the intention, anyway, but lately just the state of being awake weighed so heavy on his shoulders, pushing him into the ground, that now his limbs always seemed to ache; he would lie in his bed instead and sometimes Riku would lay down beside him and they’d doze with their legs tangled together, and the times when Sora did not fall asleep he thought about how one day he would probably be too tired to breathe and die.  _

_ Field hockey season ended sometime early in November, when the incessant heat of October finally gave way to weather cool enough to need a jacket all day instead of just in the mornings. Kairi greeted Sora at the school’s front gate looking a bit more banged up than usual with calloused palms and a knee brace peeking out from under the hem of her capris.  _

_ It was fun to have Riku to himself, but the world felt more balanced when he was with both of his best friends. AIM just wasn’t a good enough substitute for their voices. He was content to sit together with them at the cafe, watching Kairi pouring an unorthodox amount of honey into her tea and listen to her mumbling something about how she was hoping for a new iPod for the holidays but she wasn’t counting on it, while Riku stirred a single packet of sweetener into his latte and thumbed idly through the book he’d been reading. The sunlight through the window felt good on his shoulders.  _

_ The fog rolled into Sora’s head and settled between his thoughts, and he couldn’t remember things anymore. He forgot what the sun felt like. _

 

* * *

 

 

Some of the persimmons were on the ripe and squishy side, but the man at the hardware store was just going to have to deal with it because Riku wasn’t willing to shuffle alone through the dim building carrying heavy paper grocery bags of fruit any longer than he had to. In the dark, the shelves in the aisles loomed nauseatingly close together and it made his chest feel tight. Kairi was more at home with the smell of paint and wood fibers than he was. She had spent the first nine years of her life running around in the woods in the dark; Riku had not. He’d slept with a night light until he was ten. 

He was beginning to lose faith that anyone still worked here; he faced the severely neglected nursery and trudged toward the exit, where daylight waited for him. 

“Just you this time, huh?” A rough voice from behind him broke the dead silence. Riku nearly hit the ceiling. He whipped around so hard his neck made an audible cracking noise and, clenching his teeth, met eyes with the owner of the voice. 

Or, eye.

And that eye narrowed at him, and the scarred lips of the face it belonged to curled into a grin still as intimidating as before—even in a bright orange apron with a waterlogged nametag labeled ‘Xigbar’ pinned to it. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Riku swallowed wrong.  _ That _ was an idea. If she’d been with him, Kairi would be cackling until her face turned red as he bent nearly over his knees choking on his own spit. 

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “I’m fucking with you. C’mon.”

With his eyes watering, Riku held out the persimmons and rasped, “You’re gonna help me, right?”

Xigbar took the bag from his hand, spun around, and began marching into the dark abyss while motioning for Riku to follow him.

Riku blinked slowly as he stood around awkwardly and watched him (who was particularly talkative and saying a whole lot of words at him that Kairi would understand but he himself did not) pile wood and miscellaneous items onto a platform dolly. The realization came to him that he felt lightheaded. 

“Hey, kid, what’s the matter? You look a million miles away.”

There was a hand waving in front of his face suddenly. He inhaled sharply and pushed it away. “Sorry,” he mumbled, noticing that Xigbar’s other hand, the one that hadn’t been in his face, was holding a half-eaten persimmon, the thought of which eating unwashed made his insides shrivel a little. 

“I was  _ saying _ , we’re about done here. I’m thinkin’ your car probably can’t fit more than this at once,” he said, stuffing the rest of the persimmon in his mouth, seeds and all, and began to cart the dolly down the aisle. 

Riku was trying to imagine the face Kairi was going to make when he told her that the man who had survived an apocalypse ate cyanide for fun. Oh, Kairi. She was going to make a good face when he surprised her with building supplies. But he could still do a little more.

“Dirt.”

“Excuse me?”

Riku fumbled with his tongue. “Soil, I mean potting soil. Do you have any left? Um, please.”

“Is this how kids talk these days? Or can you just, like, not talk?” Xigbar didn’t wait for him to answer; he swung the dolly in the opposite direction, toward the nursery. 

“Is there anything more I can give you for your help?” Riku said, doing his best to resist the impulse to speak in a more biting tone. 

The edge of Xigbar’s lips twisted into an ugly, crooked grin. “I’m fucking with you.”

Riku narrowly avoided a face full of hair lashing him across the nose when Xigbar whipped around again to face him, barring him from the nursery. He leaned back against the dolly with his palms planted firmly on the handle, still grinning. “This entire time. I’ve been fucking with you.” He paused to let out a sound that was more of a wheeze than a laugh. “You don’t owe me a single thing. Corporate quit checking on this store a month ago. I’m the only one here.”

Riku crossed his arms and chewed his cheek.

Xigbar wheezed again. “It was quite a bit more of an ego trip than it was just being manager, scaring off kids who came just to take crap and make a big mess--you know some of those assholes are setting fire to shit now? I coulda’ taken the fifty bucks you tried to give me. But god, I can’t do it to you. You’re not even here for yourself.” He turned around again and resumed pushing the dolly toward the nursery without pausing to see if Riku was still following him.

“Why are you still here, then?”

“‘Cause I’ve got nothing better to do. There’s no one waiting for me.” Riku watched him stop to inspect a row of shelves before hefting a bag of soil onto the dolly, and then a couple more. “Eh, but that’s not new.”

“I’m… sorry?” Riku mumbled, just to say something, but the truth was that he was a little irritated and a lot uncomfortable, and he found it hard to feel sorry. It earned him a squint from one deep brown eye. 

“Whatever.”

The clouds continued to roll overhead. The nursery darkened as a dense patch of cloud passed above the skylight. Xigbar swung the dolly around again, then paused and dug his fingernails into the handle. His expression grew distant. But when the light shifted again the look was gone, and so was Xigbar himself, who had strode a few aisles over and was in the process of digging something out from behind another shelf. Riku tapped at his thigh impatiently before he returned to press something into his palm--a stack of seed packets held together by an old rubber band. The packet at the top of the stack was labelled  _ “Green Zucchini.” _

“Zucchini never stops fucking growing as long as you keep tending it. Zucchini won’t let you down,” Xigbar said. Then his voice lowered. It wasn’t quite a growl; Riku figured it was his attempt at sounding gentle. “You’ve got people to go home to, yeah?” 

Riku bit his cheek again, a little harder this time. He nodded slowly.

“Good for you, kiddo.”

Riku continued to bite his cheek.

“I used to have buddies,” he said. “Worked in a lab together, maybe fifteen years ago, back when stem cell research was starting to get really hot. Used to drink together sometimes, too.” Xigbar looked away. He crossed his arms over the handle of the dolly and dug his fingernails into his skin. He leaned into the dolly and began shuffling slowly toward the exit. “I don’t know how the hell they ever put up with me as long as they did, ‘cause I never learned how to be a decent fucking person, and they knew it.”

Riku thought he tasted blood.

“We’d been drinking. We got into--no,  _ I _ started that fight. A brief stint with the hospital and the cops and the next thing I know I have no eye, no job, and no friends.”

Definitely blood in his mouth now.

“And they’re all dead now. They’re all dead and I’m still here. It’s fuckin’ poetic, isn’t it? Nothin’ like bein’ completely alone to remind you that you’re lonely ‘cause you spent your entire goddamn life being awful.” He turned his gaze back to Riku, his face darkening as his scarred lips curved downward from a crooked grin into an intense frown. “No apology could have ever fixed the way I acted. Even though I cared about them; even if I told them so.”

Riku quit biting his sore cheek and chewed the skin on his lip instead. Somehow they had moved from the nursery to the parking lot without him noticing, and he was standing in front of his car.

Then Xigbar’s expression lightened and, after shoving the wood and bags of soil into the back of the car, straightened himself and said, “Anyway, I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have dumped all that on ya when you kids have it hard enough already.” He pressed a hand against Riku’s shoulder for a brief moment. “What’s a normal adult thing to say? Tell people you love them, preferably before they die. Wear sunscreen. Eat your fuckin’ veggies.”

Riku had run out of words at least an hour ago, and his cheek stung. He blinked and nodded, hoping it was enough to come across as something vaguely like an expression of gratitude. Fortunately, Xigbar had been an endless fountain of words and didn’t seem to notice that he had hardly spoken at all. He didn’t wait for Riku to say goodbye; instead, he shoved the dolly away and allowed it to roll somewhere further down the parking lot where it was probably doomed to sit forever, rusty and forlorn, and turned away.

“That’s enough of that. I’m leaving to go die in a ditch somewhere,” he said, and walked away without looking back. 

  
  
  
  


Riku watched the sky through the windshield. From the moving car, the clouds seemed to hang still. He never thought he could ever miss the sun in the middle of a drought, but the fact that he did hardly felt like a strange development in the midst of everything else. 

_ “Are you ever going to tell him?” _ He heard Kairi’s voice echoing in the back of his mind. 

“I can’t,” he mumbled out loud.

Suddenly there was a rush of static in his head and a deafening ringing in his ears, and his stomach felt full of lava. He pulled over at the side of the road, opened the car door, and vomited onto the asphalt.

  
  


* * *

 

“How long are you going to stay in there?”

“As long as I want.”

“But you’ve been sitting in front of the toilet for an hour.”

Riku glanced up from the abyss of the toilet bowl to catch the outline of Sora peeking in through the cracked open door.

“I’m coming in,” Sora announced.

“Let me barf in peace.”

Sora ignored him, sat himself on the floor beside him and offered him a hot mug of something that smelled enticing. “Sorry we don’t have any more Pepto Bismol. Kairi made you some ginger tea.”

Riku accepted the drink, sat back, and held it delicately under his nose. “I took some Nyquil, but I don’t think I should have.” In truth, he had only thrown up the one time, but the image of Ventus curled over the bucket on his lap tortured by endless dry heaving was burned into his mind and he was determined to purge any illness he might have contracted as quickly as possible. 

He felt Sora lean against his side. The bathroom tile was cold, and Sora’s shoulder felt comfortable and warm. He was humming something in the back of his throat, mostly to himself, so softly Riku could hardly hear.

“Ok, so if it was zombies--” 

“Zombies again?”

“If it was zombies,” Sora continued, resting his cheek against his shoulder blade, “And I got turned--how would you kill me?”

“Really, Sora?”

“How would you do it?”

“Uh, fuck, I dunno, I guess I’d…” Riku paused to take a sip of his tea hoping that Sora would get distracted and talk about something else, but it didn’t happen. “I guess I’d use a shovel.”

“A shovel? Where’s your sense of romance? At least use a pistol or something.”

“I don’t like talking about this,” Riku mumbled, though he did wonder where he saw any possible romantic tension in slaying the undead. “You sort of have a history of being close to death.”

“Kairi says to set her on fire.”

He groaned and returned his gaze to the toilet bowl. Nyquil-induced sleep was beginning to pull him in; he bobbed forward and snapped his head back before his bangs dipped into the water. He felt Sora’s hands gently pulling his hair away from his face, and then a slight tickling at the back of his neck before Riku realized that he was trying to braid it. Sora was braiding his hair and humming, and Riku’s stomach grew so hot he was afraid he might he might throw up again. Crossing an arm over the rim of the toilet seat, he buried his face in the crook of his elbow. 

Only a few minutes later Sora released his hair with a soft huff of defeat. Riku rose, observed his handiwork in the mirror, and snorted. 

“Kairi does it so well, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”

“You could actually learn to braid,” he teased.  _ You could use my hair to practice, _ he wanted to add. Instead, he said, “I’m gonna take a nap.”

Another wave of dizziness washed over him when he crawled feebly under the covers; he groaned and pressed his face deep into his pillow. He then turned onto his side to find that Sora had followed him into the bedroom and was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on his face with unwavering focus. There was a crease between his brows that made Riku ache.

“Don’t you have your own bed?”

“I’m tucking you in, stupid.” 

“I’m a big boy and I don’t need to be tucked in,  _ stupid. _ ” 

Sora straightened the covers anyway and patted down the creases, but the crease between his brows still remained. “I feel bad that you’re not feeling well. I feel like…” He glanced away for a moment. “I wish I could do more, y’know?”

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

“I dunno...”

“You and Kairi are the only things keeping me from going crazy. Just being here is more than enough.” 

“But—“

“More than enough, Sora. Now please go away, I’m trying to sleep.”

On a sunnier day Riku figured the room would probably be awash in the watery orange light of a late winter afternoon, but the overcast sky made the light dull and diffuse. Out of the corner of his eye he stared absentmindedly at the edge of Sora’s hair, backlit by the light from the window; perhaps on that sunnier day it would be a brilliant gold halo, but today it was mousy and pale. He let his eyes slip shut. The waves that had jostled him before returned; he felt as if he was floating on his back in the dark ocean. 

For the briefest moment, there was something wet on his cheek. He fought to crack his eyes open once more, helpless in the grip of chemical sleep. He saw a blurry Sora take a half-step away and clasp a hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’s a habit... I didn’t ask... I’m sorry.”

Riku couldn’t feel his legs. 

“I’m sorry,” Sora whispered again, and shuffled quickly out of the room.

Riku tried to call him back but his throat wouldn’t work, it came out as a pathetic huff and he could only ball the fabric of the blanket into a weak fist. Then it was dark and he was floating on his back in the ocean once more.

  
  
  


In his dream, he was sewing. He was sewing by hand a whipstitch into the chest of a rabbit. Its insides were spilling out from its breast to its belly, and its fur clumped between his stitches. Unbothered, it turned its head and fixed him with a single, wide eye.

“Stop that,” he begged the rabbit.

The rabbit continued to stare.

“I can’t do this when you’re looking at me like that.”

He blinked, and the rabbit was no longer in the grip of his hand but instead he held the familiar tan, bony wrist of Sora. His head was turned away.

_ Look at me,  _ he tried to say, but no sound came from his lips.

From his wrist spilled ribbons and ribbons of endless, dark, and oily magnetic tape. Somewhere within its frames, Atreyu screamed and cried for his horse in the Swamp of Sadness. 

The wound would not close. The more he stitched the wider it became, until the soft skin of his forearm fell away completely, leaving nothing but darkness. 

_ Please, look at me. _

He did not look.

  
  


Kairi was alone in the living room watching a movie with the lights off, upside down with her back on the floor and her legs on the couch cushions. A mostly-eaten bag of popcorn rested on her chest. She glanced at Riku when she heard him enter the room, gesturing at the bag of popcorn; she patted the space next to her when Riku shook his head. 

He sat down on the floor with his knees tucked into his chest. “What are you watching?”

“13 Going On 30.”

He sighed.

“Quit the tough-guy act. I know this is your favorite movie.”

“I  _ hate _ that you’ve known me long enough to know that.”

“Sing ‘Love Is a Battlefield’ with me?”

“No.”

Kairi shrugged and worked on the kernels stuck between her teeth. Riku exhaled softly. Kairi made a very convincing show of appearing to know what she was doing despite being strung tight as a rubber band. But she seemed fine--or better than she was, at least, and Riku felt like he could breathe. He watched her making faces as she hummed.   


“Where’s Sora?”

“He went to bed early.”

“Oh.”

“He helped me fix the downspout earlier. He also left while you were taking a nap saying he was going for a run. Guess he finally tired himself out.”

From where he sat, Kairi’s feet were close to his head. Without thinking Riku reached out and touched the scar on her ankle. He pulled his hand back in embarrassment, but she didn’t appear to react. 

“Kairi,” he said after a while, lowering his voice as much as possible without turning it into a whisper. “Can you listen to me for a sec?”

“I’m listening,” she replied without looking at him.

“Wait. Fuck.” He shoved his face into his knees. His chest was on fire. “Sorry. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Kairi reached for his hand and, prying it gently from his knee, squeezed his fingers. “Do you remember that Twilight Zone episode—the one with the guy who just wanted to read books, but something always kept stopping him?” 

“I’m not sure.”

“He survived a nuclear apocalypse and he came out of his bunker to find himself completely alone, but then he found the ruins of a library. Just him an an endless pile of books. All the time in the world, he said, but the minute he sat down to read them, his glasses broke?” 

“I definitely don’t remember that one.” 

“Don’t be that guy,” she said, still squeezing his fingers. 

 

* * *

 

_ He wondered why he’d hadn’t thought of doing so first, when as they prepared to head home, Kairi leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.  _

_ Sora stared at her for a beat with his mouth hanging open. _

_ “Sorry,” she whispered, clasping her hands over her mouth. Her freckles stood out boldly against her bright pink cheeks. “Was that okay?” _

_ He closed his mouth and grinned. “No, it’s--I, uh--is this what we’re doing now?” _

_ “If you want.” _

_ “I’d like that,” he said, and kissed her back. _

  
  


_ Riku scrunched up his face when Kairi tried the same. His shoulders shot up to his chin and his eyes squeezed shut. _

_ She laughed, then apologized. “You’d think I’d know better by now, huh. You don’t like being touched much.”  _

_ “Kissing me is a bit much.” Riku opened his eyes one at a time and pressed a hand to his cheek where Kairi had kissed him.  _

_ “I like it,” Sora interjected.  _

_ “I’m sure,” Riku said. “You’re a regular social deviant.” _

_ “So you won’t let me touch you but you’re fine when Sora does it. How is that fair?” Kairi narrowed her eyes and shoved at him gently. _

_ “I learned at the tender age of four that Sora is an unstoppable hurricane of physical affection.”  _

_ “I like that,” Kairi said. _

_ “I’m sure.” _

_ She leaned into Sora’s ear and whispered, “I bet he’d let you kiss him.” _

_ Riku turned away and pretended not to hear, but Sora saw his ears turn red.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Henney Buggy Band -- Sufjan Stevens
> 
> Also included in this chapter is an unapologetic reference to a Netflix show.
> 
> 14/15 were the worst years ever for me, can you tell


	14. Always Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and me, always forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Longest Chapter, the chapter length i wish i normally wrote but I'm a really slow writer. working title for this chapter was the "Lesbian Guilt Chapter." 
> 
> for this chapter in particular, some warnings for implied/referenced self harm and injury. also Safeway, the grocery store chain.

“Naminé’s not keeping her promise,” groaned Xion, shoving her fists as deep into her pants’ front pockets as they would go. “I’m having a shit week.”

Roxas flipped his skateboard into the air and caught it under his arm. “Tell her!”

“I did. She hasn’t texted me in a couple days.”

Roxas hummed. “Hey, I know what will make you feel better. Let’s crush some recycling.”

“I’m out,” she sighed.

“I’m sure we can find some nice garbage to crush in the dumpster behind the Safeway. C’mon, let’s go!” He broke into a jog before Xion could say anything.

She chased him down the street, wheezing with her hands on her knees when he stopped abruptly in front of the public pool to stare wistfully at the murky water through the gate. No one had bothered to cover it with a tarp. No one had bothered to drain it, either. A mass of dead and rotting leaves floated on the otherwise completely still surface of the water. He let out a sigh as he fumbled with the grip on his skateboard before continuing making his way down the street, walking this time.

When they wandered into the empty parking lot of the surrounding strip mall, Xion paused. “Were these windows smashed before?” She mumbled, peering into the cafe she had once made a habit of stopping into after school. 

Roxas made a soft hissing sound like steam leaving a kettle before it began to whistle. He kept walking towards the rear parking lot, a little slower and more cautiously than before. “Over here,” he called upon deciding that they were alone behind the grocery store. He grinned when he saw that the dumpster had been left unlocked, tossed the lid open, and leapt inside. He rummaged around for a few minutes making sounds of approval before he began tossing its contents onto the pavement. 

Xion inspected the pile of garbage. It was mostly cardboard boxes that had already been crushed and folded. “What am I supposed to do with these?” 

“I dunno, rip ‘em up or something,” echoed Roxas’ voice. 

“I don’t think you brought me here for me. I think you brought me here so you could go dumpster diving.”

“Hold on, I found what I’m looking for.” He stood up, hoisting a couple six-packs of empty glass bottles into the air with triumph, and clambered out of the dumpster.

Xion planted her hands on her hips. “What are you doing with those?”

“Skipping stones,” replied Roxas, handing her one of the bottles. “Except they’re bottles and I’m throwing them at the wall.”

It was brilliant green and without a label. She hesitated, dragging her fingers over the molded glass instead, picturing the collection of sea glass she had abandoned on her dresser. Her old dresser, in her old house, where bad memories lived. She knew it took ten years for a piece of glass to tumble about amongst the waves before it could be considered sea glass, beautiful, with no sharp edges. She wondered if it would take that long for her own edges to soften, and she could lie on the beach where someone might one day come along to take her home and love her.

“I used to do this with my brother. It goes like this,” Roxas continued. “You tell the bottle something that’s bothering you; that traps the worry inside. Then you throw it at the wall--bam, it’s shattered, gone. I’ll go first: my knees fucking hurt.” He hurled the bottle at the wall where it exploded in a firework of glass.

A cocktail of amusement and hysteria bubbled up within her and Xion couldn’t help but giggle. Roxas elbowed her in the shoulder, and she inhaled and readied her aim. “I wanna hear from Naminé,” she told the bottle. Once more it collided with the wall in a spray of glass. She giggled again.

Roxas began to chuckle as well. He bent down and picked up another pair of bottles. “ _ Everything _ hurts,” he hissed, and threw the bottle. They were laughing louder now; Roxas had one hand clutched to his stomach and Xion’s cheeks were beginning to smart.

“C’mon, that doesn’t count! You brought me here; what’s really bothering you?”

“Fine.” Roxas picked up another bottle. He was silent for a moment, frowning and running his fingers along the glass. Finally, he growled, “Things that should make me upset make me feel numb, and things I shouldn’t care about so much make me angry.” He hurled the bottle at the wall with so much force that some of the debris skittered all the way back to his feet. 

“Me too.” Xion threw the bottle.

Roxas let out a barking laugh that descended into a cough and a dry sniffle. “Get your own problems.”

She grinned as she snorted at him. “I keep having this dream--like those dreams where you’re being chased and it’s like you’re running through water? Except in my dream I’m chasing something, and I can never run fast enough. That’s not really what I want to talk about, through.”  While she dug at her brain for the words to give voice to her complaints, she found herself worrying her lip when the thought she had been after suddenly zipped through her and turned her insides sour. Finally, she said, “There’s something I’ve been trying to reconcile.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I think it’s something like being lonely.”

Xion watched Roxas’ brows furrow and cast a shadow over his eyes; for the briefest moment, she thought he looked hurt. She continued talking before he could open his mouth.

“No,” she said hurriedly, and then with an exasperated sigh, tugged the hair at the back of her head. “It’s… different. I want to tell you. But I don’t have the words.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Throw the bottle.”

“When I find them--” She laughed dryly as she raised her arm and planted her feet far apart. “You’ll be the first person I tell.”

Amid the spray of glass, Roxas’ raucous laughter was cut off by a high-pitched yelp. Xion whipped her head around to see him grasping one hand with the other, his nose crinkled and his teeth gritted, and her heart sank.

“Fuck, Roxas, I’m so sorry!” She clasped her hands around his wrists. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine.” He groaned and gingerly lifted his fingers away from his hand, revealing a mess of red spilling out from the meat of his palm. He quickly clapped his other hand back over the wound. 

“Uh, that doesn’t look fine. I think you might need stitches. Let’s go home.”

He slipped away from her grip, his eyes growing wide as he uttered a long and creative stream of curses. Xion reached out to place a hand upon his shoulder, but when she lifted her arm she noticed that she had blood on her fingers.

“Fuck, I can’t go home yet. My brother’s either gonna kill me or he’s gonna cry and I don’t know which one is worse.  _ Fuck. _ ”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped again. “I only know your brother from what you’ve told me, does he usually get that upset?”

“It’s not like that,” he replied. “I would tell him the truth, but he won’t believe me. I sort of--” 

Roxas cut himself off and fixed his eyes on the street. Xion suddenly became aware of rambunctious, cacophonous laughter echoing through the strip mall, and even where they stood in the rear parking lot of the Safeway it was loud enough to be intimidating. She swore she could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up and resisted the strange and primal urge to bare her teeth at the silhouettes that came into view as they crossed the space between the buildings.

Boys. A lot of them. Carrying bats. Laughing that horrible hyena laugh that made her blood run cold.

Roxas was gritting his teeth so hard she could practically see his jaws straining. He stood where he was with his feet planted far apart and his shoulders hunched and his breathing restrained. For a solid moment Xion was terrified that he might attempt to fight them then and there, and then not only would she be out of a best friend but she’d have to find some way to explain to his brother why his skull looked like a deflated soccer ball. That was, of course, if she didn’t get her own brains bashed in first. But he stayed silent. Xion didn’t breathe until the noise began to fade, and then she exhaled so hard she was almost wheezing. 

“Take me to Lea’s house,” Roxas said in a low voice. “He has a First-Aid kit in the hallway closet. Don’t ask me how I know.” 

She collected his skateboard from where it had been leaning against the dumpster and wordlessly led him out of the parking lot.

  
  
  


“What the  _ fuck _ did you do to your hand?” Lea hissed as he pressed an alcohol-soaked cotton ball to Roxas’ trembling forearm.

“What did  _ I _ do. What did  _ I  _ do to his hand,” Xion corrected.

“What the fuck,” Lea repeated.

“We were--”

“Having knife fights?!”

“Smashing bottles we got from the dumpster behind Safeway,” Roxas interjected. “Could you please fix my hand before grilling me?”

There were a few seconds of relative silence during which Lea exhaled through his teeth and muttered something about his failure as a role model. Roxas squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away when Lea informed him that he was going to begin; the metallic clicking of the forceps was immediately followed by a scandalized yelp and a stream of curses. Xion could see his eyes welling up as he jerked his arm away.

“You can squeeze my hand if you want,” she offered.

“Fuck you,” Roxas said, but he took it anyway. 

Three stitches, a roll of gauze, and two very sore hands later, Roxas was still sitting cross-legged on a kitchen chair, picking at his wrappings and pretending that he hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes threatening to poke Lea full of holes with a needle once he was finished because people usually used anaesthetic instead of ibuprofen as Lea repeatedly hissed at him to shut up and that he was sorry he didn’t have anything better. Xion, meanwhile, kept silent while she graciously allowed Roxas to crush her metacarpals and shoved her hand between her knees once he finally let go.

Roxas groaned when Lea announced that he was taking him home, but complied without further protest. He exhaled heavily into Xion’s shoulder as he hugged her goodbye. Then he gathered his skateboard, slipped on his shoes without bothering to tie them, and allowed Lea to escort him out the door. 

Alone, Xion lay down on the carpet with her arms spread out and her knees in the air and pretended she was a sea star, but she found that pretending she didn’t have ears or eyes or a brain was boring and rolled over onto her stomach to check her phone. Something in her chest fluttered when she noticed that she had an unread message from Naminé, timestamped a half hour prior. 

_ Sorry for the radio silence, _ she said.  _ I ran away. _

She got up and paced around the room for a few minutes before texting back a long series of question marks.

She responded immediately.  _ I’m sorry, that sounded bad. I’m completely fine. I’m staying with Terra and co.  _

Xion sent more question marks.

_ Do you have some free time? I’d like to see you again.   _  
  


 

* * *

 

“You’ve  _ never _ had pearl milk tea?” Xion repeated, incredulous. She glanced up from fiddling with the dashboard of the BMW Naminé had shown up in. It had a rear view camera; she’d never seen one before. Fancy.

“Never,” Naminé replied, a tiny grin gracing her lips. “I got intimidated by how complicated trying to order something was.”

“I wish that’s what we were doing right now.” She sighed wistfully and returned to fiddling with the dashboard. A burst of static slammed against her eardrum when she turned on the radio by accident. She twisted the knob the other way and slumped down in the passenger seat with her hands between her legs. 

Naminé giggled and returned her gaze to the road. In the driver’s seat she appeared to be even slighter than she was, but her posture was confident and Xion found herself admiring the angle of her chin before she caught herself and quickly turned her head to the passenger window and hiding her mouth behind her fingers. The radio static was in her brain now, making her stare like an idiot.

“I didn’t know you had your driver’s license already,” She mumbled after a few minutes when she dared to move her focus away from the window.

“I don’t,” Naminé said, grin spreading across her face and her eyes crinkling as she lifted her index finger to her lips.

“This is super illegal.” 

“I stole my cousins’ car, too.” 

Xion made a choking noise. “Naminé, you  _ have  _ to tell me what the hell is going on with you,” she gasped. 

“I ran away,” she replied simply. 

She gave her a pointed look. 

“And I stole a car.” When she realized that Xion was still staring at her, she tugged at the collar of her sweater as her face fell and added tensely, “I had to get out.”

Xion felt somewhat shaken; all she could do was utter a knowing hum. 

  
  


Aqua answered the door. She greeted them with an enthusiastic smile that grew wider when she saw Xion and proceeded to bombard her with formalities, and she did her best to answer the question “How are you” with anything other than a low whine and a strained smile. When she finally allowed Naminé to gently tug her away, her posture fell from being upright and receptive to an exhausted slouch and it was clear that she, too, had lied. 

Xion followed them to the kitchen, close enough to Naminé to gently pinch the sleeve of her sweater. 

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” Called Aqua as Xion shook her head. Aqua sat herself down at the kitchen table in front of a laptop and a couple notebooks and chewed on the end of a ballpoint pen as she pushed her unkempt hair away from her face and attempted to tuck it behind her ear before it fell over her forehead again. 

Terra sat across from her with a similar setup. He shifted in his chair to catch Naminé as she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck for a brief moment; he laughed and ruffled her hair as she let go. 

“If you guys do get hungry, don’t eat from the dishes at the top of the fridge… It’s  _ not _ leftover kimchi,” he informed them. 

Aqua took her pen out of her mouth. “Did you try to eat my cultures?” 

“Could you stop doing science where food goes?”

“How’s Ven?” Xion asked tentatively, before Terra could run through the exact same formalities as his sister. “Lea and Roxas told me he was sick last week.”

“He’s fine,” he replied. He lowered his gaze slightly. “You should go say hi--he’s been stuck at home with his dumb siblings all week and he’ll be happy to see a new face.”

Naminé’s face lit up and she grabbed Xion’s shoulder. “That’s right, you haven’t met Ven yet!” 

Xion allowed her to tug her away from the kitchen and into the living room. Resting on the couch with an iPad in his lap was a boy with straw colored hair who Xion assumed was the much talked-about Ventus. A pair of crutches leaned against the couch within his arm’s reach. It tickled her that for an instant he reminded her of Roxas--but only if Roxas had all the anger sucked out of him and some of his color, too. On a second glance she realized they did not actually look that much alike.

“Hey,” he said, sitting up straight but not moving from the couch.

“Hey,” Naminé replied. “This is my friend, Xion, who I was telling you about. We met at the same camp I met you at!”

Ventus leaned slightly to one side to look Xion in the face. Then he grinned and nodded at Naminé. “I’m Ventus, but I usually go by Ven.” 

“Are--how have you been doing?” Xion stuttered, nearly wincing as she realized she’d just asked him the question she’d been trying to avoid answering herself for the past fifteen minutes. 

But almost to her relief, he sighed and said, “Hard to say--is anyone ever doing alright lately?”

“No shit,” she said.

Ventus let out a dry laugh. “You don’t have to hang around me; I’m a bummer. Look—“ He motioned to the pair of crutches leaning against the couch. “I still can’t walk.” 

Xion rubbed the back of her head, out of words. Reassurances seemed empty. Ventus offered her a strained smile and announced that he was going to take a nap; then he rolled over and pulled a blanket over his head. 

Naminé suggested they go for a walk. Xion nodded and hurriedly slipped her shoes and jacket on, feeling guilty about seeming so eager to leave the house, but by the second deep breath she took of the crisp, biting air she felt better. There was a sort of pall hanging over that house and everyone in it.

Neither of them said a word until they were all the way down the block, and then they said “Sorry,” in unison, laughed, and said “Sorry” again. Naminé paused a couple steps ahead of Xion, fixing her with a gentle smile and apologetic eyes. She held out her elbow; Xion, who was always in a state of having her hands shoved into the pockets of her bomber jacket, just stared blankly. Naminé moved toward her and looped her arm delicately around hers.

“Bad moods are kind of contagious. I don’t think I’ve seen Ven in a mood like that before,” she sighed. “I thought it would be fun if we could so something together, but…” She trailed off and sighed again.

The butterfly migration was in Xion’s chest again, apparently back from Michoacan just to fill her insides with their relentless fluttering. She leaned in anyway, aware of the smell of fabric softener on Naminé’s sweater and the tickle of her hair. It was nice, for a moment. Then the other feeling was back, crawling out from the pit of her stomach, turning her gut back into a sour, roiling cauldron of acid. Her palms went from tolerably warm and sweaty to freezing. She stopped walking and unhooked her arm from Naminé’s. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, tilting her head. Her eyes were apologetic still; she always looked very sorry about something, Xion thought.

“I don’t know why I did that,” Xion mumbled, staring at her own arm still hovering in the air. She curled it around Naminé’s once more and hid her hand in the pocket of her jacket. The feeling still lurked somewhere in her intestines. She willed it to go away but it stayed defiantly in her body, just watching, like chaperones at a middle school dance waiting to shove themselves between thirteen year-olds who came closer than an arm’s length away from each other. 

Naminé hummed something melodiless quietly at the back of her throat and played with the edge of her sweater, staring at the sidewalk with a tiny grin.

“So, uh,” Xion began, still trying to will away the unsavory feeling. “You and Terra seem kinda close.”

“Yeah--I mean, I did meet Ven first. Terra and Aqua were taking summer classes at the same time me and Ven were at camp, and they always came to pick him up. Remember how I never had a lunch or a snack or anything?”

“Ugh. Even my own mom still let me eat lunch.”

“Terra was actually the one who insisted he feed me. He used to take me to eat all the time.”

“That’s actually really sweet.”

“Also, no one ever bothered me when I was in the shadow of a huge jock,” Naminé giggled. 

Xion laughed a barking laugh. “That reminds me of why I hung out with Lea, ‘cept it was ‘cause he used to look a lot more like he crawled out of the underworld.”

“You have interesting friends.”

“Does that include you?” 

Naminé’s face turned pink and she shook Xion’s shoulder as she laughed. 

They kept walking. Eventually Xion forgot about her palms feeling sweaty. There was smoke in the air, but it smelled bitter somehow. She ignored it in favor of being distracted by Naminé’s hair, and her spiel about how Ven was teaching her how to cook, and how he’d taught himself because his family was often busy. How Aqua did not have any idea about what foods taste good together but she could accurately measure out leavening ingredients. How Terra was a skilled baker but he disliked sweets, so whatever he made usually sat molding above the fridge unless he took it to campus and gave it away. Xion listened intently. 

Naminé drove her home. Xion didn’t think she had anything interesting to say, but she talked anyway. She talked about how Roxas’ idea to throw glass bottles against the wall ended up with Lea sewing up his hand. She talked about how she usually spent her evenings playing video games with Lea but she’d only even beaten him in Super Smash Bros once. She talked about Roxas teaching her to skateboard at the schoolyard. 

As she parked in front of the townhouse complex, Naminé grabbed Xion’s arm as she was getting out of the car. “Wait, wait,” she said, hurriedly digging for something in one of her front pockets. When she finally drew it out she took Xion’s hand and placed in delicately in her palm. “Ven has so much extra embroidery floss, he started teaching me to make these, too… I, um, made you one.”

Xion observed the object in her hand. It was a bracelet a lot like the ones her classmates used to make for each other in elementary school, but in the hands of a high schooler, it was careful work--patterned with diamonds in a mix of blue and lavender, fixed with a loop and a wooden button at the ends. No one had ever made anything for her before. A bit verklempt, she could only stutter, “You remembered my favorite color.”

“Duh,” she replied. “What do you think I use my sketchbook for?” 

Xion allowed her to lean over and wrap her arms around her neck, while she--with one leg dangling awkwardly out of the car--could only stare blankly at the knit of her sweater. Then she waited until the BMW was around the corner and out of sight before she turned back toward the townhouse complex, weaving the bracelet between her fingers inside the pocket of her jacket.

Lea was smoking out on the lawn again, wearing something warmer than just a T-shirt this time but still looking a bit cold. The dark circles under his eyes seemed darker than usual--not the shade of makeup he used to emphasize them, but dark as in he hadn’t slept well. She wasn’t sure if this was new, or if she had just failed to notice it earlier. When he saw her approaching from the street he held out his arms; she ran at him and threw herself at his chest, and he patted her shoulder before she pulled away, squeezing her eyes shut as he ruffled her hair.

“How’s your girl?”

“She made me this,” Xion said, holding the bracelet under his nose.

He let out a wheeze that descended into a cough. He held one fist to his mouth until the fit passed, nearly dropping the cigarette he was holding in his other hand, and then with his eyes still watering he laughed, “She  _ made _ you a bracelet? She likes you, man.”

“It’s a  _ friendship  _ bracelet. Roxas says Kairi makes them for his brother and his friend all the time.”

Lea wheezed again and threw his head back. “Holy shit, Xi. You’re killing me.” He crushed the cigarette under his heel and lit another.

She pouted and stuffed the bracelet back into her jacket. “Can I talk to you about something, though?”

“Of course. I’ll meet you back inside in a little bit.”

Xion left him on the lawn. She threw her shoes haphazardly against the side of the wall and lay down on the floor of the living room, but this time she didn’t pretend to be sea star. Instead, she took the bracelet out from her jacket again and wove it between her fingers. She put it on. She took it off. She wove it through her fingers some more. She thought about Naminé’s head resting on her shoulder, and the smell of fabric softener on her sweater, and her slim, sure fingers--

She was just kidding herself. Girls were just like that. 

Her stomach began to complain again. She rolled over and checked her phone. She scowled when she realized it had been an hour and Lea still hadn’t come back inside. She got up and opened the door; it had gotten dark, but she could see the faint orange glow of Lea’s cigarette. Without putting her shoes on, she braved the freezing sidewalk to march up to him barefoot and cross her arms.

“How long have you been smoking today?” She pressed with her voice as low as she could make it go.

Lea narrowed his eyes and exhaled a plume of smoke through his nostrils. “That’s none of your business.”

“So?”

“Leave me alone.”

“Stop smoking, then.” 

He stood up straight and tilted his jaw upwards to look down on her with his nose crinkled, glow of his cigarette reflecting sharply in the slivers of his eyes, and growled, “Leave me  _ alone. _ ”

Xion was startled. She could feel her chest strain and hot tears begin to well up in her eyes, and she willed herself not to cry. 

She turned on her heel and ran back into the house and up the stairs, into Lea’s bedroom. There were unopened packs of cigarettes still sitting on top of the dresser; she stuffed them into the pocket of her bomber jacket and began to pull open the drawers one by one rummaging around for more. She found some hidden under his shirts and she stuffed as many of them as she could fit into her jacket. She figured there were probably even more in the drawer of his nightstand, but she didn’t dare to look. Then she ran out the door (having slipped her shoes on this time, but not bothering to either tie them or  to fix their heels) and into the dark.

She kept running until she came to a small park a few blocks away where she stopped to catch her breath. The streetlights has gone out there and she could barely see, but she didn’t care. There was a bitter smell in the air. She shivered despite the warmth of her jacket. 

Xion emptied the contents of her pockets onto the ground. She stared at the pile of cigarette packs at her feet and clenched her teeth so hard she thought she might lose a filling, her vision blurred by her watering eyes. Then she lifted one knee and came down hard upon the pile with her heel. Pain shot up her leg; she doubled over clutching her ankle and let out a sob. She clasped her other hand over her mouth, sucking in her breath through her nose until her foot was only throbbing.

She stood there, just panting, head hung low, staring blankly at the ground. This wasn’t going to get her anywhere. This wasn’t going to fix anything. She reached back into the pocket of her jacket to grasp the bracelet in her fist. She wished she hadn’t gone home; she wished she was still walking with Naminé’s arm looped around hers; she wished her nose was buried in her sweater. But the more she thought about Naminé the more her insides hurt. She was going to give herself an ulcer over it. 

It was so easy, letting Naminé’s arms fall around her shoulders, to let her pull her in, to fall asleep in that kind of touch. It was easier to take a wrong step, to ruin absolutely everything.

_ Something like being lonely. _

She remembered the collection of sea glass on her dresser again. Roxas’ yelp, the spray of glass, and the open wound on his palm shoved its way to the front of her mind, and she shook her head trying to dispel the image like an Etch A Sketch.

She brought her heel down on the pile of cigarettes once more, digging them into the ground until she was only making a mess of tobacco under her feet. Somewhere between the trampled cigarettes and the rest of the mess she’d made, she finally found the word she’d been searching for.

Xion felt guilty.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always Forever -- Cults
> 
> I heard this song 4 and a half years ago at 3am in the lobby of a hotel in Georgia while I was having a sort of weird emotional episode and decided I'd rather sleep in one of the lobby chairs. I tried to record it on my phone but by that time the song was over, so I accepted that the song was lost to unrelenting flow of time and I'd probably never find it again. then a few months ago a heard it very faintly in the background of a sucky tv show and i was able to look it up. felt like seeing halley's comet twice.
> 
> I dunno, I don't have a lot to say about this chapter. It got weirdly personal.


	15. Fine, Great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But it’s crucial to blot out any signs that I might have feelings  
> This way you don’t ask me how am I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank u so fuckin much for all the comments. I haven't been updating that fast cos i haven't been writing as fast... but feedback is always so encouraging, thanks a bajillion!!!
> 
> In which Sora listens to Carly Rae Jepsen, there's talk of chocolate cake, and a round of Super Smash Bros Melee doesn't go as planned.

_ The note in his backpack was in Kairi’s handwriting. Sora didn’t find it until he got home and it was there--taped to the front of his folder where he’d see it, patterned paper folded into the shape of an envelope and wrapped with twine tied neatly into a bow. He wasted a few minutes admiring how cute it was before opening it as delicately as he could. They hadn’t passed notes since fourth grade, but he didn’t have time to wonder why she’d suddenly started again because upon reading it he was granted his answer. He folded it hurriedly, stuffed it into his pants pocket, and ran out the door. _

_ She was waiting for him under the walnut tree at the park like the note said she’d be, her arms folded over her stomach, looking a bit chilly even in her sweater. She was staring at her feet as she idly crossed and uncrossed her legs, and only looked up when she heard the leaves crunching under his feet as he approached and skidded to a stop in front of her. _

_ “Are you teasing me again?” Sora wheezed, holding out the note. _

_ Kairi planted her hands on her hips. “Do you think I’d be here waiting for you if I was?” _

_ He was bent over with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He looked up, wiped his forehead with one arm, and grinned, feeling his face burning a lot more intensely than it was a moment ago. “I never really thought about it before.” _

_ “So?” She pressed, folding her arms again. _

_ “I like you, too.” _

_ Her eyes crinkled. “You  _ like _ -like me?” _

_ He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You said you weren’t teasing me!”  _

_ She cackled with her hands on her stomach. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly once she finally collected herself, sliding down the trunk of the tree and sitting down at the base. Sora sat down beside her. _

_ “What should we do now?” She asked. _

_ “I think people who like each other usually go on dates,” he replied. _

_ Kairi giggled. “That’s not what I meant, but we can do that. What do you think?” _

_ “I’d like that,” he said. _

  
  


* * *

 

He’d done stupid things, of course. He had a habit of acting before thinking, so in fact most of the things he’d done in his life were stupid. When he was younger, he and his brother had made a game of throwing darts between each other’s fingers as the backs of their hands were pressed against the center of the target. He’d once fallen off the roof watching the fireworks on the fourth of July and had somehow only sprained his wrist. He’d once allowed his friends to dare him to skinny dip in the river and gotten scolded by the campground staff at Yosemite as they stood by and snickered. Then there was  _ that  _ stupid thing. He’d trespassed on the properties up in the foothills (‘cause really, keeping a view of the entire bay like that to yourself was just selfish) but never before had he broken a boundary. 

“I’m going for a run,” Sora announced, fumbling with his shoes at the front door. He couldn’t get them on fast enough. 

“You’re not tired?” Kairi called from the other side of the house. 

“Nope,” he lied. His legs were full of jitters and it was unbearable, like when he tried to drink coffee and he was still exhausted but the world was spinning around him at a hundred miles an hour.

“Want company? I can get dressed right now.”

“It’s fine, I think I’ll go by myself.”

Kairi crossed over from the kitchen, caught him by the wrist before he could escape, and stuffed her pocket knife into the front pocket of his jacket. Sora made an exaggerated groan but didn’t resist. He looked back up at her face and grinned before noticing that she was giving him a look, the one where her eyes went wide and her eyebrows were raised like she knew something. She did have an obnoxious habit of knowing, and she knew that, too. It was a confidence game--sometimes she acted like she knew just so he’d spill, and he would, because he still told her everything.

He gave Kairi a tight squeeze, assured her he wouldn’t be too long, and sprinted across the lawn and down the street. The knife in his pocket banged against his hip as he ran with the cold air stinging his lungs. The rain appeared to have stopped for good, and though the sky was still a patchwork of clouds, the sun shone warmly through the gaps. 

The weather brought him no peace of mind. The cold bit at his cheeks and his thighs burned. There was a cocktail of feelings commingling all at once under his skin and he only wanted them  _ out _ before they caused him to spontaneously combust.  _ Why did I do that? _ He kept repeating to himself, the words jumbling with the melodies of Carly Rae Jepsen that had become inconveniently stuck in his head. He supposed he’d spent one too many afternoons with his CDs spinning in Roxas’ old boombox.  _ Why did I do that? _ He asked.  _ Hey, I just met you, _ said Carly Rae.

He didn’t ask. That was it--he didn’t ask, and he only had to apologize. It was an impulse, no different from picking up sparkly rocks and poking his brother in the navel. Riku had been his best friend since he was three years old; he was more comfortable with him than he’d ever been with anyone else. Their mothers had bathed them together, same as the way Sora had shared a tub with Roxas until they were four. When they slept over, they’d shared the same twin bed until the two of them couldn’t fit in it anymore. And all the millions of times he’d hugged him and held his hand and played with his hair--those were impulses, too. Why did he feel so  _ weird _ about it? Kairi kissed him sometimes, and he didn’t like it, but it was no big deal. He kept digging at his thoughts, but it was useless.  _ Call me maybe, _ said Carly Rae.

Sora kept running until he couldn’t feel his legs, until his lungs were burning so badly that he was beginning to taste iron, until his hair was sticking flat to the back of his neck. He stopped to catch his breath, hunched over wheezing with his hands in his knees, and when he looked up again he realized he must be the next town over as he was now standing directly in the cold, blue shadow of the mountains. He could see the beige prism of the Mt. Umunhum observatory clearly now. He’d been here before; there was a gelato shop on the corner with an Italian name he never quit misreading, and there were a number of summer evenings he’d stopped to watch the dogs at the park with a cone in his hand. He could continue up the foothills, but he knew that no matter which route he took passing the cemetery was inevitable. It was either that or he would get mauled by a mountain lion while he was up there, and if he was being honest with himself, death by mountain lion was slightly more appealing. He turned back. 

It was dark by the time he returned. The porch light was on as usual. Sora could see the shadows of Kairi and Roxas through the shuttered window blinds shuffling about in the kitchen. He didn’t see the shadow of Riku. He took a breath before opening the door anyhow, quickly waving to Kairi and Roxas and excusing himself to go take a shower. 

The door to Riku’s room was closed; Sora figured he must still be asleep. It was still closed when he left the bathroom. At the risk of waking him, Sora felt compelled to go in--just to check on him, he told himself, because he had been sleeping a long time. It was definitely not to stare at him while he slept. Maybe he’d already be awake and he could apologize to him then. He wasn’t, though, because as Sora slowly cracked the door open he found that the room was completely dark and the blinds hadn’t been shut. 

Riku was just a shadowy lump in the center of the bed, the orange light from the street lamp falling through the window and over his shoulders, his hair fanned out behind him. His brows were furrowed and his nose was crinkled, and his bangs were sticking to his forehead. His lips were moving ever slightly. Sora debated nudging him awake, to rescue him from whatever nightmare that seemed to be gripping him, but he decided against it--if he was sick, he wouldn’t be happy about being roused. Sora left him sleeping.

Roxas fed them frozen fish sticks and tater tots, which Sora would have been more excited about had he not fed them the exact same thing the last time he was in charge of dinner. He ate without a word while Kairi made that wide-eyed look at him, and he did the dishes without protest. 

“Hey,” Kairi said sternly as he finished drying off the dishes, cornering him against the sink.  “Spill.”

Sora turned around, pressing his palms firmly against the counter behind him. “Okay, but--” Her nose was only a millimeter away from his face. “I wanna talk in the backyard.”

  
  
  


He was hardly comfortable sitting outside on the concrete porch--his tailbone hurt and his ass was frozen--but that wasn’t the issue. He took a deep breath and blurted, “Kairi, I might have... kissed him.”

She squinted and shook her head incredulously, but there was an apparent grin spreading across her face which she had to purse her lips to hide. “ _ This _ is why you’re upset?” She paused to cough and Sora nudged her shoulder forcefully with his elbow. 

“On the cheek, before he fell asleep,” he continued. “I didn’t ask. I don’t know why, I just… did it.” He nudged Kairi again when he noticed her hiding her grin with her fingers.

“Oh my god, you nut,” She said under her breath, looking like she was trying to filter a number of things through her mind before she decided to speak again. “Okay, so? You kiss me all the time.” 

“But  _ I  _ don’t kiss  _ him. _ ”

“Why not start? The world’s already ended. You can kiss Riku all you want.” She had not quit wearing that teasing squint and shit-eating grin on her face. 

Sora groaned and shoved his face into his knees. After a few minutes of silence he lifted his head again and mumbled, “I dunno, we just don’t. Riku’s just my best friend.”

Kairi stopped grinning. “Aren’t I just your friend, too?”

“Yeah, but--” 

“Shut up and listen to yourself.” Her voice grew low. “What color is the sky?”

“It’s blue,” he replied.

“Is it? Sora, look up. What color is the sky?” 

He looked up. Beyond the shivering trees, beyond the patchwork blanket of clouds, beyond the glow of the half-moon, beyond Mars and the Milky Way and the uncountable billions of stars, was only the infinite darkness of the universe. 

“It’s black,” he said.

Kairi’s face brightened and her grin returned. “You--you know how people work. You’re the only person who’s ever made Riku laugh so hard he pissed his pants, and you’re the only person who ever could,” she said. Then she sat up straight and hissed, “But you don’t have an ounce of self-awareness! If you were any dumber, you wouldn’t be able to recognize your own reflection. It’s tragic!” She shoved him so hard he nearly fell over.

“I don’t even remember what I did to make Riku piss his pants,” Sora mused, righting himself and dusting off his sweatpants.

“I don’t either,” Kairi replied. She snorted and immediately lost her composure. Her laughter was contagious, and they both found themselves wheezing and clutching helplessly at their stomachs. With her eyes watering, Kairi cleared her throat and said shakily, “I think you get these ideas in your head that things are supposed to be the way you think they’re supposed to be.”

He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

She didn’t elaborate. She only smiled a tight-lipped smile and kissed him softly on the cheek. 

 

 

 

Sora was roused by the clamoring of birds in the trees outside his window. It was early enough that the sun had not yet risen and the morning light shone blue. Beside him, Roxas had shoved himself firmly into the crevasse between the bed and the wall, snoring so gently it was almost a purr. The bedroom was freezing and Sora swore he could see his breath; he shuddered and pulled the duvet up to his nose. He was about to roll over and go back to sleep until he heard the clatter of cutlery coming from the kitchen. He sat up and shoved his feet into the pair of slippers he kept by the bed and slipped on the sweatshirt draped over a chair before treading out into the living room. 

It was Riku, still in his pajamas with his hair fixed into a sloppy bun, a blanket draped over his shoulders as he shuffled about in the kitchen. He knelt down to search for something in the cupboard under the stove; when he stood up again he caught sight of Sora lingering in the living room and paused to fix him briefly with an expressionless gaze before turning his attention back to his search. Sora continued his journey to the kitchen and, too tired to say anything, only wrapped his arms around Riku’s stomach and pressed his cheek to his shoulder blade. 

For a moment they stood in the kitchen, just breathing, and Sora was sure the cold tile was the only thing keeping him from falling back asleep right there until Riku slowly stretched an arm outward to turn on the faucet, cupped his hand under it, and flung a handful of water over his shoulder into Sora’s face. He yelped and let go of Riku to rub his face with his arms, laughing into the crook of his elbow. When he glanced up, Riku was looking down at him with a lopsided grin.

“Morning,” Riku mumbled, stifling a yawn and pulling his blanket back over his shoulders. 

“Feeling better?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed.

Sora hoisted himself up onto the counter and sat scrutinizing Riku’s face. There was still a little sleep crusted onto his eyelids. He didn’t seem to be angry or upset at all; Sora wasn’t sure what to think. He continued staring at him trying to discern his mood, but he eventually lost focus and found himself lost in his jawline. He shook his head and looked somewhere else, which happened to be the bare spot on the back of his neck. Sora shook his head again. 

“What’re you making?” He asked, only to distract himself from his distractions.

Riku turned around and leaned back against the stove. “I dunno,” he replied. “I can’t decide. What do you think I should make?”

Sora kicked his legs. “Chocolate cake.”

“Unless you can find me eggs and butter, it’s gonna taste like shit.”

“Please?” He sat up straight with his hands in his lap and batted his lashes imploringly until his vision was obscured by Riku’s hand in his face. 

Riku said nothing, but the corners of his lips were curled into a delicate smile. He retrieved his hand when Sora, laughing, shoved it away.

“Hey--” He began, kicking his feet against the cupboard door. He held his breath as he watched him tilt his head and raise his eyebrows. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

He blinked. 

“About yesterday.”

“Oh.” He made a croaking noise like he’d swallowed wrong. There was a gentle flush creeping onto his face. “Not really.”

“But--uh...You’re sure?”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, and rubbed at his neck. Then he said, a little too loudly, “I’ll make you a chocolate cake.”

Sora managed to resist cheering out loud (out of respect for the residents of the house who were still asleep) but he pumped his arms in the air so hard he nearly fell off the counter. Riku lunged forward to catch him by the knees. Sora was struck with an odd sense of deja-vu. Their noses were awfully close; he could smell the shampoo lingering on Riku’s hair. Old Spice or something. The light outside was changing, illuminating the side of his face with a watery yellow as the sun rose and highlighted the angle of his jawline. Sora began to reach out to touch the light falling on his cheek, but before he could do so Riku laughed dryly and turned away to continue his rummaging through the cupboard under the stove. 

Sora remained seated on the counter, staring absentmindedly at the bare spot on the back of Riku’s neck.

 

* * *

 

“Roxas,” Sora hissed, slumping dramatically against the couch with his controller in his lap in defeat. “Wavedashing is fucking cheating and you know it.” He shoved at his shoulder.

“You’re just mad ‘cause you can’t do it,” Roxas replied with a smirk, and started a new match. “C’mon, it’s your turn to pick the stage.”

“I miss when you weren’t such an ass about playing games. I’m gonna apply for a new brother.”

“Good fucking luck, at this point you’re stuck with me the rest of your life.” Roxas watched him select Fountain of Dreams for the fifth time. His hand smarted, and it was difficult to ignore. He’d torn off the bandages as soon as he’d gotten home and pulled on an extra large hoodie to hide his hands in the sleeves. Even when he pushed them up to play video games, the wound remained hidden as long as he didn’t let go of the controller. It had seemed to be working, at least until the ibuprofen began to wear off and he became even more distracted. 

Sora‘s arms shot into the air as he whooped, “I beat you!”

“Once,” Roxas replied. “And only ‘cause my controller is sticky.”

“You’re such a sore loser. It’s not sticking.”

“No, my hands are sweaty; it’s stick—” He looked at his controller. A wave of dizziness washed over him. His hands were definitely sticky, but they weren’t sweaty. 

Sora let out a squawk. “What happened?” He grabbed his wrist before he could pull away, squinting as his examined his hand. “Stitches?” 

Roxas hadn’t planned to be caught; his entire plan was to not get caught until the wound closed on its own. But he realized only now that it was exceedingly stupid that he thought he could hide it from his twin, and he should have instead prepared for the storm that was beginning to cross Sora’s face as he tightened his grip on his wrist.

“You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore,” he said, his eyes growing dark. 

Roxas struggled to retrieve his hand, but Sora had a grip like a vice. 

“It was the first thing you said to me when I came home from the hospital.” 

“It was an accident,” he gasped. The futility of the situation made his skin prickle.

“That’s what you said last time.” Sora’s voice was at a near growl. Roxas’ blood was trailing down his forearm, but he made no move to wipe it away. “Lea did these stitches again, didn’t he?” 

“Where the hell am I supposed to go?” 

“To  _ me. _ ” His voice broke as he said it, and the tears he had been holding back began to stream down his cheeks. 

_ There he goes,  _ thought Roxas. He hated it when Sora cried. It was too easy to make him do it. Since they were little, Riku had always been so concerned whenever Sora cried, and suddenly began treating him like something delicate. It made him furious. 

“Aren’t you remembering to take your medication?” 

“I’m almost out. I’m saving it for when I need it.”

“Roxas, you need it  _ now. _ ” 

Some switch somewhere in his mind flipped and suddenly drained him of all desire to care. He knew there was no way of convincing him of the truth from the start. There were years of scars that were deliberate, though they were silver and faded now. But to Sora, deliberate or no, it was all the same. It was none of his business what he did with his body, anyway, he thought. With his wrist still trapped in his brother’s grip, Roxas squeezed his other hand into a fist, swung his arm, and socked him square in the jaw. 

Sora recoiled with a yelp and cradled his cheek. Before he could retaliate, Roxas grabbed him by the shoulders and bowled him off the couch, pinning him to the floor. Sora let out a hiss as his ankle collided with the edge of the coffee table on the way down.

“What the fuck was that for?!” He rasped. The blood from Roxas’ hand was beginning to soak into his sleeve.

“None of this is any of your business,” Roxas growled. There was a terrible pressure to his gut as Sora lifted his knees and kicked him in the stomach, sending them somersaulting across the living room snapping and clawing at each other until Roxas found himself pinned on his back with a Gamecube controller pressing into the curve of his spine.

“I think it  _ is _ my business,” Sora retorted. He grasped at the collar of his shirt with a sob. “You’re the only family I have left!”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite. After all that,  _ you’re _ mad at  _ me _ for hurting myself? I’m not the one who--” A punch to the face cut him off. He bit his cheek by in the process and groaned pitifully as he tossed his head. 

Sora was still straddling him, pressing his spine against the controller hard enough he was sure his vertebrae were bruising. Sora’s knuckles collided with his jaw again, and he tasted iron. Roxas heaved him off his stomach with a roar and he stumbled backwards, the back of his head crashing into the glass sliding door. Sora rose shakily to his feet. As he leapt forward to tackle Roxas to the floor, the door opened and Kairi burst through.

“ _ Boys, _ ” she shrieked, her eyes wild, running her hands through her hair in exasperation. “What the everloving fuck do you two think you’re doing?!”

Sora froze, hunched over and stuttering like a raccoon caught rummaging in a garbage can. Roxas used the opportunity to knee him in the groin. Kairi dove for Roxas, knocking a pair of drinking glasses off the table and sending them clattering to the floor. Riku appeared in the doorway just then, one hand plastered to his forehead and his hair in a similar mode of dishevelment. 

“Grab Sora before they kill each other!” She commanded as she held the ankles of a writhing Roxas in the air.

Riku slipped his hands under Sora’s armpits before he could strike the immobilized Roxas, continuing to snap and struggle against his hold. “What the fuck is going on,” he wheezed, wincing as Sora kicked and crushed his toes with his heel.

“Fuck you,” Sora spat. “You promised!” 

Roxas tried to kick himself out of Kairi’s grip as she began to drag him across the floor. He was staring at Sora’s tear streaked, upside-down face and the darkening bloodstain he’d left on the sleeve of his shirt. “You’re a fucking pathetic crybaby of a brother; we’d both be better off--” He yelped as Kairi kneed him hard in the small of his back and hissed at him to shut up.

Sora only began to sob harder, crying that he didn’t mean it. Roxas said nothing. He quit struggling and allowed Kairi to drag him into the hallway before she pulled him to his feet and shoved him into the bathroom, shutting him inside.

“You can take a shower if you want,” she called from the other side of the door. “But I’m not letting you out until you cool down.” She was probably standing with her back to the door and there was no way he’d be able to force it open; Kairi was strong and Roxas knew when to give up. 

He sighed, and the room began to dance and spin around him as his breath left his body like the air in his lungs was the last thing keeping him from keeling over. His reflection in the mirror was warped and blurry, further obfuscated by an ever-shifting pattern of spots. He wondered idly if something had happened to his eyes. He could still see his jaw growing red and swollen, and the mass of scratches etched onto his skin when he wriggled out of his shirt.

Roxas turned on the bathtub faucet and just sat there on the side of the tub letting the water run over his feet and swirl down the drain. There were good things in his life and he knew it, and yet the impulse to ruin things—to cut to the bone, to reopen wounds and rub dirt in them—overcame him every time. It was fucked up of him, he thought. It wasn’t bad enough that his body hurt; his soul had to hurt, too. 

He wondered if it would ever stop. He wondered if he’d grow out of it. How long would that take? He wondered.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fine, Great -- Modern Baseball 
> 
> This chapter got... dramatic. but only for people who dont have siblings. probably.


	16. What Do You Go Home To?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little while. I forgot what I was gonna say about this chapter.
> 
> Warning for alcohol and prom. But not at the same time.
> 
> [EDIT] I didn't plan on like, specifying the exact relationships between these characters because I don't really care about telling people how to interpret my writing, but despite doing my best to make this abundantly clear, some feedback has been making me anxious about this lately so I want to at least say this: there's not any Ak*r*ku in this fic. Axel/Lea is a Literal Adult in canon, I really don't care to ship him with kids. Thanks.

Xion was woken from that dream she kept having—the one where she’d run and run after something she could never ever catch—by the sound of the doorbell echoing through the house. Lea must’ve locked himself outside; he could deal with it himself, she thought. She rolled over, but the doorbell rang again, and then a third time before she kicked away the blankets and threw on a sweater to trudge downstairs and give him an earful. It was too fucking early for him to be bothering her with the consequences of his bad habits. But it wasn’t him standing on the doorstep—it was Roxas. His backpack was slung loosely over his shoulder and he gripped his skateboard under his other arm with his head hung low, his eyes shadowed by his bedraggled mess of hair.

“Roxas—what happened to your face?” She breathed.

“I know, it’s gross, isn’t it?” He laughed dryly and contorted his face into something she assumed was supposed to be a grin, but the bruise on his jaw was so swollen it turned out awkward and lopsided. Xion ushered him inside and, after closing the door behind him, allowed his backpack to slide off his shoulder and onto the floor. He let his skateboard down with only just a little more care. 

“Did something happen?”

He shrugged, then shook his head. Xion extended her arms and he let his head fall onto her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist and balling the fabric of her sweater loosely into his fists. She heard him sniffle, and then his back began to gently quake. She held him until the shaking stopped and he let go. 

“I’m tired,” he said. He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. “Do you mind if I sleep here?” 

She shook her head. He discarded his shoes and flopped onto the couch with a sigh that made him sound like he was deflating. Xion gathered the blankets from the hallway closet and threw them over him, patting them down at the edges as he grinned and pulled them up to his nose. She sat herself down on the floor and leaned back against the couch.

“You do this a lot,” she told him. 

“I know my face makes this sound unconvincing, but god, it’s nothing like you and your parents--honest. Me an’ Sora get along.” Roxas sighed, then rolled onto his back. “There’s something you’ll never understand about having siblings--it’s like you’re programmed to hate each other. Fighting’s normal, and nine times outta ten it’s about some really pointless shit.”

Xion crossed her arms over her knees. “Even for twins?” 

“ _ Especially _ for twins! That’s why when we fight about something real--well, you see what happens.” 

“Your hand--” She’d noticed that he’d removed the bandages at some point. The wound looked swollen and irritated. 

“Reminded him of something we don't talk about.” 

There were a lot of things Roxas didn’t talk about. She didn’t press. Instead, she hummed and smoothed down the creases of his blanket again. He let out another long, deflating sigh and closed his eyes. It was still obnoxiously early; there was no one else to talk to since Naminé was definitely still asleep, and she wasn’t quite prepared to face Lea once he woke up and figured out what she’d done with his belongings the night before. Xion debated going back to bed herself, but she hadn’t been awake this early since school was still happening and figured she might as well enjoy her precious last few hours alive.

Being up before the world was awake was a different sort of boring. Xion wasted an hour or so returning scattered CDs and records to their respective shelves, opening them and reading the inserts. Some of them were clearly Roxas’ taste, but some looked like they must have belonged to other people altogether. One such article was hidden somewhere at the end of one of the shelves—a jewel case with a handmade insert she believed to be what a mixtape looked like, but the writing on its cover had long bled out and become indecipherable. It was one of those things she’d only noticed after she’d moved in, like the Casio and exactly how much Lea smoked. She burned another couple hours lying on the floor and playing her old Gameboy with the volume off. Then she shuffled around the second floor bathroom organizing the medicine cabinet. There were at least five different shades of black nail polish sitting in one of the drawers under the sink; she sat on the lid of the toilet and painted her nails with one of them. 

It wasn’t till noon that there were other signs of life. Roxas (who snored very softly, and Xion always pictured the sound belonging to a very tiny lawnmower) spluttered awake, kicked off his blankets, and demanded a glass of juice. Xion obliged and brought it to him. He drank it with a blank expression and his eyes half-lidded, and when he was finished with it he handed back the empty glass, rolled onto his side, and went back to sleep. Not long after Roxas’ tiny lawnmower purring began to worm its way into her ears again, Xion heard a bedroom door open. Lea appeared at the top of the stairs.  _ Woohoo, I can’t wait for my face to look exactly like Roxas’, _ she thought.

He ambled down the stairs, reaching under his sweatshirt to scratch at his stomach with one hand and stifling a yawn with the other. He tousled Xion’s hair as he passed by her leaning against the back of the couch. Then he stopped and turned around. Xion braced herself, but his attention was not on her. He raised his brows as he peered over the couch. “Rox? What happened to his--”

“He sorta had a rough night,” she interrupted. 

He reached out to brush a few stray strands of hair away from Roxas’ face as he frowned and chewed his lip. Roxas did not stir. “I guess we’ll catch up when he wakes up.”  

Lea continued his way across the living room, slipped on his shoes, and disappeared beyond the front door followed by a freezing rush of air tinged with the scent of cigarette smoke. Xion realized she was just being stupid. Of course she hadn’t gotten rid of his entire stash. Lea probably had packs hidden inside the walls. She probably hadn’t even made a dent. Xion wanted to be angry, but she was too tired. 

It was nearly five o’clock in the evening when Roxas stirred again. He coughed and demanded another glass of juice, but immediately got up to obtain it himself. He sat outside on the front step as his drank it, and Xion followed him as she wasn’t entirely sure if he was lucid until he spoke.

“I had one of those dreams about my brother dying again,” he said. 

“I could’ve woken you up if I’d known you were having a bad dream,” she offered. 

He shook his head and took another sip of juice. “I never see him die; in my dream, he’s just gone.” He stared blankly at the ground while Xion scrutinized the bruise on his face; maybe it was the vanishing daylight, but it appeared have become darker already. Then he shrugged and lolled his head back on his shoulders, gazing ahead at the sun setting behind the mountains. His chest quaked briefly in silent laughter.

Xion crossed her arms over her knees, resting her chin in the crook of her elbow. The sun looked terribly small and distant, like it really was the size of a quarter and she could just blot it out with her thumb. She held her hand up against it and squeezed one eye shut; with the sun out of her vision, she became distracted by the bracelet on her wrist. When she squinted, the blue and lavender woven together melted into a delicate periwinkle. 

Roxas tipped her arm downwards. “That’s the girliest thing I’ve ever seen you wear. When did you get it?”  

Xion felt her face grow hot. “Naminé made it,” she replied, stifling a groan when she saw Roxas’s brows shoot up to his hairline and a grin spread rapidly across his face. She slapped her palm against his mouth and he cackled into it.

There was the rumble of a car engine echoing from somewhere down the street that drew their attention before Roxas could tease her any further. Xion retrieved her hand and leaned forward as the car came into view and parked across the lawn. She tried to recall where she had seen it before, until she glimpsed the familiar peacoat and hair of the driver--both navy blue--as she stepped out and began to walk towards them along the twisted sidewalk path of the townhouse complex.

Aqua did not look well.This was not a new development. Each time she saw her she looked exponentially more exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes darker each time and the black roots of her hair showing through a little more. As she came closer, Xion could see the shirt she was wearing beneath her unbuttoned coat--a maroon tee hand-embroidered with a lazy drawing of an evergreen tree with a cartoon face and a pair of legs in lieu of a trunk. Beneath it read “ _ STANDFOR” _ in collegiate font. In addition to the odd juxtaposition of clothing in her ensemble, she had partially tucked her shirt into her faded, paint-stained sweatpants and wore a pair of black ankle boots that looked expensive. Roxas waved to her; Xion still found that being around her made her underarms feel unbearably sweaty, so she kept her hands to herself. 

“Hello, you two,” she said, and tilted her head as she fixed Roxas with her light-eyed stare. “What’s happened here? I thought Lea was supposed to keep you out of trouble.”

“He doesn’t know about my secret underground boxing gig,” replied Roxas with a deformed grin. Aqua frowned and raised her brows. “Just kidding. I fell off my skateboard yesterday.” Xion elbowed him in the shoulder, causing him to let out a squawk, his voice cracking in the middle. He rubbed at his arm and kicked at her ankle as she giggled.

“Hey,” interrupted the voice of Lea from behind them. He was standing in the now open doorway with a bright grin and his hands planted on his hips. “You didn’t tell me you were coming! What’cha doin’ out here besides interrogating my kids?”

Aqua ran hand through her hair, sighing as her head lolled to one side. “Lea,” she said. “Let’s get hammered.”  
  
  


 

She was already on her third beer while Lea was still nursing his first. Beer was all he had, though Aqua had initially asked for something stronger. Xion exchanged a look with Roxas, and then that turned into five looks, and then that turned into ten looks and counting. Aqua obviously had a goal; she had the same dark focus in her eyes that Xion saw in Lea on the days he stood out smoking on the lawn for an especially long time--the same one she saw the night before. Xion chewed on the edge of her glass of juice, distracting herself with the clinking noises her teeth made against the glass while Aqua droned on about how she’d taken her cultures home to keep an eye on while she was away from the lab while Ventus was sick, but they weren’t doing well in the kitchen fridge. 

“Anyone tell you that you look like crap lately?” Lea interjected as he observed her pull open the metal tab on a fourth beer. “The hell’s the matter with you? I swear you were still a goody two-shoes the last time I saw you.” 

She shrugged.

“I’m confiscating this,” he said as he plucked the can from her hand mid-swig. She groaned and pawed at it helplessly as Lea held her back with his hand in her face. 

It was becoming increasingly apparent to Xion that the two of them had more similarities than she’d thought, but she still couldn’t imagine how a former punk musician with a delinquent streak might have become friends with an admirably diligent student of an elite university in the first place. She thought bemusedly that it could have been the subject of a Hollywood summer romance movie, some “opposites attract” kind of cheese, were Lea not so vocally open about his interest in other boys. That was definitely for the better. 

“How did you guys even become friends?” Xion asked, interrupting their feud over the can of beer. 

“I was his chemistry tutor in high school,” Aqua informed them, looking Xion in the face but still attempting to reach for the beer with one arm. “I used to be part of the after school tutoring program.”

Roxas wheezed. “Lea? Going to  _ tutoring?” _

Lea continued to slap Aqua’s hand away. “Hey, my dad was so neglectful at that point in time that the most rebellious thing I could do was to get help with my homework.”

“And, ah, well,” Aqua hummed, lacing her fingers together. “When we started talking about other stuff, it turned out we actually had some things in common.” 

“Yeah, like not having any other fucking friends,” cackled Lea.

Xion wondered how Aqua could have possibly been bad at making friends in high school. People without friends ended up hiding in the bathroom stalls, like herself--at least until she’d met Lea. Aqua did not look like someone who spent her time in a bathroom stall. The dark spot in Lea’s timeline seemed to grow darker the more she learned about him. “So, uh,” she began tentatively, because she desperately wanted to know more about his days before she’d met him, but he had always been irritatingly defensive about it. “What’s the deal with you two? What did you do that made Aqua so mad at you?”

The response was immediate boisterous laughter from the two of them. Aqua laughed with a  _ hee, hee, hee _ noise as her face turned lobster red.

Roxas sat up straight and pounded on his thighs with his fists. “ _ Please _ tell her! I haven’t even gotten to hear the whole thing!”

“Shh,” interrupted Aqua, finally retrieving her can of beer. She held up one hand while she took a long sip.

Lea grumbled something about being an enabler before he clasped his hands together and cleared his throat. “So,” he began, before Aqua set down her drink. “This was when she was a senior and I was a junior, a couple months after she started tutoring me. This was a few weeks before senior prom tickets were about to go on sale and Aqua mentioned that she’d always wanted to go, but she couldn’t find anyone to go with--”

“What do you mean you couldn’t find anybody to go with?!” Xion blurted, feeling her face begin to burn amid her breathless outburst. Lea was attempting to stifle a laugh  but it came out of his nose instead as an ugly snort. “You could have asked any guy you wanted to go with you and they would have said yes! You’re so smart and pretty and tall--” 

“And gay,” said Aqua with a tight-lipped grin.

Her face felt like the surface of the sun. It sure was a lonely thing, sometimes. Roxas nudged her shoulder with his own. Lea was still snorting through his nose. 

“I asked him if he knew anyone I might be able to go with and he said he had this  _ friend… _ ” Her nose crinkled a bit as she enunciated the word “friend” like she was tasting something bitter. “We went on a couple dates beforehand. She seemed nice enough. But mostly I thought she was really hot.”

Roxas sat up on his knees. “What was her name?” 

She rolled her eyes around for a moment and chewed her lip. “It was… Arlene? No, it started with an ‘l’... L-La…” 

“Larxene?!” Roxas nearly shouted. Aqua nodded and snapped her fingers. “Lea, you set her up with  _ Larxene? _ What the  _ fuck?!? _ ” 

“Who’s Larxene?” 

“The worst,” hissed Roxas, grabbing Xion’s wrists and looking her straight in the eye. “She played guitar in Lea’s old band, and she was the  _ worst _ .”

“That’s definitely one of the top ten biggest mistakes I’ve ever made.” Lea ran his hands through his hair and took a large sip of his beer. “Where did they have the prom again? The Hilton?”

“The Hyatt Regency in San Francisco. Really fancy. Nice view of the bay.” Aqua’s tight-lipped grin returned. “I told Dad I was going stag with my friends; only Terra knew who I was going with.” 

Xion wished she could have gone to prom. TV was her only reference, and she could only hope it was just as exciting and important. She wondered if she would have been brave enough to ask Naminé. Probably not. The image of her parents flashed briefly through Xion’s mind, and she felt ill. She shook her head and tried to dispel the memory of her mother’s overreaction to that first haircut--the screaming, the crocodile tears, the sobbing that her daughter wanted to become a boy…  There was no way on any planet in the solar system she could have been brave enough to ask Naminé to prom. 

“Technically, we weren’t supposed leave the prom until it was over,” Aqua continued. “But I’d heard about seniors who’d managed to sneak out in the middle. So when Larxene said she wanted to get out of there I thought, cool, I’m gonna get--whoops, there are kids here.” She buried her nose in her beer. 

Lea began snorting through his nose again. Roxas pouted. Xion just blushed.

“So we made it all the way to the parking lot and she hops in this Tesla. I ask if it’s hers, she just says, sure. I get in with her, because I’m an idiot. We get all the way to Millbrae before I see police cars behind us, and she doesn’t pull over--she just keeps going faster.” She rubbed at her temples, mussing her unruly bangs. “It’s at this point she tells me the car is  _ not _ hers.”

Xion stared wide-eyed with her mouth hanging open. Roxas was grinning. 

“Now you know. That’s how I spent my prom night in holding. I was really lucky that my dad bailed me out, but I had to explain a lot more to him that night than I anticipated.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Aqua,” Lea groaned. 

“It wasn’t really your fault. I was just teasing.” She shrugged. “Terra thought it was hilarious, but Ven was horrified.” She opened a fifth beer.

“I can’t believe it was Larxene…” mumbled Roxas, mostly to himself. 

“How’s he doing? Ven, I mean,” asked Lea in a low voice.

“Ven’s with Aerith.” Aqua brought her shoulders up to her chin and grinned like she had gas. Then she pushed her bangs away from her forehead and took a very long sip. “He’s in the hospital.” 

Xion looked towards Roxas; Roxas stared back. Lea stood up and brushed off his jeans; he extended a hand to Aqua and she took it, wobbling as she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Then with one arm around her shoulders he said, “Let’s go outside,” and steered her towards the front door. Xion watched the door shut behind them and, holding her breath, just sat on her feet for a long moment until she heard their voices again. They must be sitting on the front step, she figured. Roxas fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket.

“...My fault,” She heard Aqua say. “Seemed… better than…” 

“No… fine…” Lea’s voice said.

There were a few hissing whispers followed by a loud sob. Xion’s impulse to be nosy was stronger than her inclination to be polite, so she got up and sat on her haunches by the door. Roxas followed suit. 

“He might not be able to walk for a while… If I’d caught it sooner—“

“Sorry to be blunt, but if you hadn’t caught it at all, he might be dead.” 

Xion didn’t know what they were talking about. Didn’t Ventus just have the flu? 

“I  _ should have  _ caught it sooner,” Aqua’s voice said again. “I should know these things!”

“You always act so damn responsible that it kills me,” hissed Lea. “You’re still pre-med; you can’t beat yourself about shit that you haven’t even been trained for yet. Aerith’s a resident! She’s among the best people you could leave him with right now.”

There was a burst of hysterical laughter--an ugly  _ hee, hee, hee _ noise punctuated by sobs and sniffles. “When did you start sounding so rational, Lea?” 

“Hmm, maybe around the time you made it clear to me that you’re developing a drinking problem. Give that back.” 

Groaning noises. “I need to go home…”

“You need to take a nap. Let’s go back inside. I’ll tell Terra that you’re staying over.” 

They scrambled to their feet as the doorknob began to turn. Roxas flipped himself over the back of the couch and Xion tumbled into place next to him, and they began furiously and rhythmically slapping their hands together and chanting “Concentration 64; no repeats or hesitation; category is--” 

Aqua stumbled through the door hanging off of Lea’s arm. “And you have to tell my brother that he has to get rid of  _ all _ the canned goods, not just the ones he thinks look suspicious.  _ All _ of them,” she instructed him as her coat slid off her shoulders and onto the floor.

Lea grunted and motioned for the two of them to make room on the couch, and they scattered like startled pigeons. Xion picked up her coat and draped it over the kitchen chair while Roxas watched Aqua flop onto the couch and hit the back of her head against its arm. She didn’t appear to notice. She fell asleep nearly immediately after Lea buried her under a mass of blankets from the hallway closet. Xion had felt so intimidated by Aqua until now, and here she was passed out in her living room. It was humbling, in an odd way.

Roxas leaned into Xion’s ear and whispered, “Is that what I looked like?”

“I think you actually looked worse,” she replied, poking his bruised jaw.

He scowled and clapped his hand against his cheek. Then he shoved his fists into his pocket and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and swaying as he did so. “I’m gonna go home,” he said after a long while. “I miss my brother.”

 

 

 

 

She did not have the running dream. 

She dreamt that she was crouching in the bathroom stall, holding her breath as she stared over her knees at her dirty sneakers. Her friends—whom she only used the word to describe something they had once been, but willfully forfeited the title in even the most liberal sense—waited to ambush. The walls of her fortress of solitude disappeared around her, and she was vulnerable. They they touched her; they put their faces close, they sat in her lap. They squealed and laughed and pretended to wretch. 

“Ew, she touched my chest! She molested me! Are you guys seeing this?” Whined the girl Xion had grown up with, once held sleepovers with, had attended the birthday party of just a few months ago, as the others cackled and skittered around her like water in a hot pan. “You don’t think she has a  _ crush on me _ , do you?” 

Xion woke with her heart pounding and her blood running cold in her veins. Her pillow was damp and her neck was wet. She turned it over and sank back into it, doing her best to take deep breaths as she pulled her blankets up to her chin. She stared at the ceiling, doing nothing but breathing and watching the shadows shifting across it. 

There were expectations. She knew them well. There were things she was allowed, and one thing she wasn’t. And if she defied them, well.  _ Those _ girls hid in bathroom stalls.

She’d hated herself for making her life miserable. She’d tried to convince herself that these things weren’t her fault, but she still could never shake the feeling that she deserved whatever came to her. Flowers that grew through cracks in the concrete were bound to be stepped on. 

She squirmed under the covers for what felt like hours, entertaining the idea of shaving her head just to feel comfortable. She gave up wriggling and pulled her phone out from under her pillow as she rolled onto her side. Xion squinted at it. She had unread messages. 

_ Check it out—matchy-matchy, _ said a text from Roxas. Attached was a blurry picture of himself and his brother behind him; they were sitting at the dining room table eating what she assumed to be dinner, but appeared to be bowls of cereal. His brother’s tan face was marred by a split lip and his fingers were curled into a peace sign. Roxas’ own arm was extended out behind him and his middle finger was bared at his brother’s face. They were both grinning, and they both looked awful. She snorted and couldn’t help but grin back.

There were still texts from Naminé. Xion covered her lips with her fingers and forced herself to quit smiling.  _ I hope you’re taking good care of Aqua, _ she said.  _ Make sure to bring her back in one piece. _ Xion cringed and decided that she wouldn’t tell her that Lea let her drink most of a six-pack.  _ Oh, I forgot to give you your reading for this week, _ Naminé continued. A line of exclamation marks separated her next sentence from her last.  _ If you come over tomorrow, I’ll do it for you in person.  _

Was this an excuse to ask her to come over? Xion attempted to sound casual by sending nothing more than a few thumbs-up emojis but immediately groaned and covered her eyes with one arm, feeling stupid. Maybe she’d drive someplace an hour away, to The City, to see a different psychic reader--someone who made her stomach turn in a different way.

Xion thought about neon psychic signs hanging outside second story windows until sleep finally came to claim her again, and then she dreamt of nothing.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Do You Go Home To? -- Explosions in the Sky
> 
> If you want to know which lovingly embroidered image I intended to be on Aqua's shirt, please google "Stanford tree."


	17. Coyotes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're in love with all of it  
> What can we say, what can we say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Compared to my usual standard of chapters, this one's absurdly long and it took me a good while to finish. It's also an ode to my favorite 'abandoned' mall which they apparently started tearing down parts of this summer, and I don't think I'm legally allowed to create any kind of apocalypse fiction without mentioning at least one (1) abandoned mall.
> 
> As always, thanks guys for the wonderful feedback and everything !!

“ _ Where _ was this farmer’s market supposed to be again?”

“It was supposed to be… here,” Sora replied, gazing forlornly out at the empty parking lot. 

“You’re sure.” Riku raised an eyebrow. 

“That’s what it said online, I swear!” He held his phone under Riku’s nose, the webpage with the announcement pulled up on his browser.

Riku crossed his eyes and squinted at it. “Sora, this post is from August.” 

He glanced at his phone again. Then he threw his head back and let out a long groan. All he wanted was to eat an egg, but he’d shattered his own dreams; he’d give a kidney for a hard boiled egg at this point. Anything besides frozen vegetables, endless varieties of spam, and brown rice. 

“Your eyesight alright? No corneas scratched or anything? Dyslexia acting up?” Riku said, the corner of his lips upturned in a smirk. Sora spun around to return the look by puffing up his cheeks in a pout and immediately wincing as it made his busted lip sting. After a beat his face softened, and he said, with his voice low in his throat, “But really, are you alright?” 

There was a toy that Sora used to have—an Oldsmobile that could be wound up by dragging it backwards, which he’d used to send puttering off along the sidewalk in front of his house. Except that one day a crack in the driveway caused the toy to take an unfortunate swerve onto the street, where it ran out of momentum and sat for an achingly short moment before being crushed by the thousand-pound metal contraption it was modeled after. That was what Sora felt like when he’d woke. It was like being fourteen again, when he’d always wake up sick and miserable as if someone had taken a bat to him while he was sleeping… or run him over. 

“It’s called  _ dyscalculia _ ,” Sora informed him. “And there’s superglue on my face and I feel like I got hit by a car.” He stumbled as Riku brought the palm of his hand between his shoulder blades with a couple hard thumps, whipping around to mouth _ “hey” _ as Riku’s eyes crinkled in a silent cackle.

“Let’s go home. I’ll make the cake without eggs; I’m getting really good at this vegan baking stuff.” 

Sora exhaled through his nostrils and pursed his lips. Across the parking lot, above the line of redwoods, loomed a weathered sign. He stared blankly at it. The neon had long burnt out, but it was still legible in the daylight.  _ Vallco Fashion Park, _ it read. The monolith had been there since before he was born, and cast its shadow over him ever since. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Riku said, shaking him out of his trance. 

“I wanna go inside.”

“And see what? It’s been completely empty for the last two years.”

“Maybe I wanna make sure it hasn’t changed.”

  
  


Sora had seen pictures of abandoned places on the internet--shopping malls, houses, amusement parks, barns. They all shared one haunting aspect, and that was how it seemed that nothing but the relentless march of time had ever touched them. As if their inhabitants had just been spirited away. Everything was all still there with no effort of cleanup to be seen, left only to gather dust as nature reclaimed the earth they had been built upon. 

Vallco was no such place. 

Vallco Fashion Park was a skeleton picked completely clean by rising rent prices and irresponsible management. Only the scars of store signs suggested it had once been a place for retail; the storefronts themselves had been shuttered, some even boarded off and spackled over to give the impression that there was never a store there in the first place. The fountains had been dry for as long as Sora could remember, though when he was younger he still wished upon the pennies he threw into their parched beds. The dry and dying foliage that adorned the surrounding planters reached feebly toward the skylight. It was a desolate and melancholy place. He felt an odd sort of pride in it. It was awful, but it was  _ his  _ place. 

After a lot of badgering on Sora’s part, they clambered over the cyclone fence surrounding the establishment and found their way in through the east facing entrance. The glass door had apparently been shattered at some point, and the shards were scattered across the floor inside. 

“The second anything weird happens, we’re leaving,” Riku grumbled, kicking glass out of his way. “No more sick freshmen, no more hardware store employees who overshare their life stories.”

Sora stuck his lip out at him. “You’ve lost your sense of adventure, and I’m gonna find it.” He surveyed the environment around him, spinning in a slow circle from the scar of the Sears sign above its empty storefront to the shuttered seafood buffet and back again to the southeast entrance. Everything was in the same place as he remembered it, but in the two years without regular upkeep, the building had begun to fall apart faster than he’d expected. The place looked like it hadn’t been touched in five years at the least. Some of the ceiling tiles had fallen onto the floor, chipping the floor tiles and exposing wires and the ventilation system. The floor itself had collected so much dust that each time Sora took a step, a comical cloud of dust puffed up from beneath his feet. 

“I think I lost my sense of adventure  _ when everyone died.  _ I just want to stay at home--hey, where do you think you’re going?” Riku interrupted himself when Sora found himself wandering farther into the mall.

“Do you think the theater still has movies?” He wondered out loud. 

Riku reluctantly shuffled into step beside him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker and sticking his chin out as his shoulders shot up to his ears. Sora thought he looked like a big heron when he did that. “Doubt it.” 

Ahead, a fountain sat beneath the broken skylight, despondent. The withered foliage, usually a considerable fire hazard, was a step away from crumbling entirely into dust. A shallow pool of dirty rainwater had collected within the fountain. Glass and coins glinted from beneath the surface. 

“I think I would have liked to drown here,” Riku said. 

Sora hummed and began to dig hurriedly through his pockets, causing the bow strapped to his backpack and the arrows zipped into the large pocket to clatter noisily together. There were always stray coins hiding in his clothes, but aside from Kairi’s pocket knife (now having taken up permanent residence in the pocket of his jacket) he found only a single menthol lozenge. “Got any quarters?” Riku lazily patted his pants pockets, then shook his head. Sora unwrapped the lozenge and popped it into his mouth. “I guess this could work,” he mumbled, leaning down to pick up a small chunk of loose tile from the floor.

“You’re not gonna stone me with that, are you?”

“I’m makin’ a wish. You should make one, too.”

Riku let out a sigh before inspecting the floor and picking up a fist-sized piece of tile.

“That’s a really big wish.”

He stared at his hand for a moment. “Huh. Maybe I need a really big wish.” Then he closed his eyes, tilting his head up towards the skylight and swaying back and forth on his feet ever so slightly. The corners of his lips were delicately upturned in a smile that, to Sora, looked horribly sad. When he opened his eyes again, he reassumed his neutral expression and wordlessly tossed the chunk of tile into the fountain with an unenthusiastic underhand throw. It landed among the glass and coins with a loud  _ plunk. _

Sora threw his own piece of tile into the fountain without thinking of anything in particular. “Whoops. I forgot to make a wish.” He heard Riku laugh as he bend down to pick up another piece of tile. He drew back his arm, but then hesitated. He could not think anything to wish for. He didn’t know what he wanted, and that made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he had nothing to want, but wishing for a carton of eggs seemed too petty and wishing for world peace seemed too big. He threw the tile into the fountain anyway. 

“So? What did you wish for?”

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.” Sora could see Riku squinting at him from the corner of his eye. He ignored it and crushed the lozenge between his teeth. 

“Hey, can we get out of here yet?” Riku took his hands out of his pockets to cross his arms and tap his foot in an exaggerated display of impatience. 

He shook his head. “I wanna see the theater.”  This was met with a resigned sigh. With his hands returned safely to his pockets, Riku tailed him closely as he led him further into the mall. 

Beside the balcony which allowed them to peer down into the dark and barren ground floor stood what once had been readable as a map, but water damage had begun to rot the paper inside the display. On the opposite side was another rotting poster of a child holding a video game controller in juxtaposition to a child holding a turtle; that one had been there for at least ten years. The storefronts that stood challenging each other along the aisle had been closed and stripped of signage long enough before the mall was abandoned that Sora could not remember what used to be there. There was a storefront that had obviously belonged to a bakery, but he’d never seen the place operational. Scattered amid the empty storefronts, fallen skylights, and dark corners were candy machines he believed had not once been refilled between now and his birth. When they were twelve, he and Kairi had dared each other to eat a gumball from the machine outside the Macy’s, and Sora found himself violently ill the following morning. Hidden in the rear was a food court with a constantly rotating selection of takeout places that seemed to be perpetually closed save for the Burger King in the corner; this was all stationed upon a ring of linoleum tile with a nauseating checkerboard pattern.

Then there was the theater. It had been the most recent addition to the mall, and it stood square in the center of it with its blood red painted motifs and a shiny glass elevator, hoping to draw in business to stall its inevitable death. It died anyway, of course. Now, the paint was chipping and the movie posters had all been stripped away from their frames. The escalators which led upstairs from the ticketing area to concessions had become merely a plain case of stairs. Sora paused abruptly on the steps to glance over his shoulder and into the darkness, but he stumbled forward as Riku crashed into him, knocking his shins painfully against the edge of the steps. He gripped the railing to right himself and Riku frowned before waving to usher him onward. Sora turned to continue the climb, but something moving caught the corner of his eye. He whipped around again, this time his temple colliding with Riku’s chin.

“Sora, you’ve  _ got _ to stop that,” he grumbled, rubbing his jaw. 

Sora tapped rapidly at his shoulder and pointed into the void below them, cupping his other hand over his mouth as he did so. Riku knitted his brows for a moment, looking like he meant to say something, but then turned his head to peer delicately over the railing. The light dappled the ground floor two floors below to faintly illuminate the tines of a cervine figure. Sora held his breath as he fished an arrow from his backpack and began to slowly draw his bow.

“Can you get him from this far?” Riku whispered so softly that he was mostly just mouthing the words. Sora shrugged. 

The deer glanced upward. He could see its face with its telltale mule deer eyebrows that gave it an intense and accusatory expression. It held him with that dark-eyed stare, silently daring him to shoot. Its long ears twitched. Slowly,  _ slowly,  _ he drew his arm back, and

There came an ear-shattered scream that echoed through his chest and froze the blood in his veins. Beside him, he saw Riku flinch and squeeze his eyes shut. His bow was still drawn and the arrow was still firmly between his fingers. Sora blinked. The deer was lost beneath a writhing mass of coyotes. They held their breath, watching, unable to look away. The deer kicked and flailed below. Whenever it shook one coyote, another seemed to latch on.

Sora saw Riku inhale, cup his hands around his mouth, and lean over the railing. He put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t,” he told him.

Riku blinked and pursed his lips. “Why?”

“Scaring them away won’t save him,” he replied. He tilted his head. He saw the hindquarters of the deer dyed red and its chafed legs raw. “It’ll just take longer for him to die.”

Riku hummed in solemn understanding, and they continued to gaze wide-eyed at the brawl below. For a moment the deer surfaced above the sea of coyotes; there was a piercing yelp as it brought its hooves down upon one unfortunate coyote again and again until it lay still on the tile floor. But immediately the deer began to sway and its legs buckled, and it collapsed. Even as it disappeared under a shifting tide of fur and blood, it did not move. 

“Nature is terrifying,” Sora heard Riku mumble. They abandoned the scene and climbed the last few steps up to the theater. 

Concessions was the darkest corner of the mall by far, and it smelled a nauseating mix of moldy carpet and stale popcorn. Sora dug into his backpack to fish out his flashlight; it flickered pathetically for a moment as he turned it on. Its light revealed that the place had sustained the least amount of damage, and aside from the emptiness of it all, it almost seemed as if the theater had only just been closed. In the corner where the arcade machines stood, there were only dark stains and wall outlets. Just like ticketing, the frames which once displayed posters of the season’s movies were empty as well. Most of all it was just dark; every screen, every corner, every display case was dark. Sora kept moving through the layers of shadows with Riku hovering almost directly over his shoulder until he came to the nearest screening room door which, to his pleasant surprise as he tugged on the handle, had been left unlocked. It was then he felt Riku hesitate, and he heard him let out a groan that sounded like someone slowly letting the air out of a bicycle tire.

“We saw the theater, aren’t we done now?” 

“Just one more place,” Sora assured him. 

Riku frowned. Sora offered him his hand, but he did not take it; he kept them in his pockets instead. He sighed, then wordlessly pushed himself past Sora into the screening room where he paused after a few steps to turn around and tilt his head and mouth,  _ Well?  _

“I’ve always wanted to be the only person watching a movie in the theater,” Sora said, sweeping the beam of the flashlight along the aisles, the light just barely catching the tail of a mouse as it scurried out of sight. Once he reached the centermost aisle, Sora sat himself in one of the seats in the middle; he suddenly became a lot more aware of the smell of moldy upholstery, but elected to ignore it.

“Oh? What would you watch?” Riku sat down beside him. “I think it’d be pretty cool to see a space movie by yourself.”

Slumping in his chair so that his knees touched the seat in front of him, he said, “I dunno. Anything.” He wasn’t really thinking about movies. He was more preoccupied with the space itself—empty, quiet. It was kind of nice. He began to feel sleepy. He leaned his head against Riku’s arm and exhaled slowly, cupping his fingers over the head of the flashlight so that it emitted only a soft, orange glow. Even though he was dirty, more than a bit sweaty, and a whole lot hungry, sitting there in the theater was comfortable. Being alone with Riku, he thought, was just comfortable. Even when everything else wasn’t. 

If Kairi was an exciting noise--an upbeat song, the rumble of thunder--Riku was a comforting quiet, like the low hum of the generator from the bottom of a swimming pool. Neither was better or worse than the other. It was just different. 

“Hey,” said Sora after a while. 

Riku hummed a low hum that Sora could feel in his chest. 

“You know the last ‘Back to School’ dance we went to? When you weren’t feeling well so the three of us ended up sitting around at the edge of the quad drinking sodas?” 

“What about it?”

“Nothing much, really.” Sora fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. “I was just thinking about how being quiet is kinda nice after a lot of noise.” He heard Riku snort, and felt the seat next to him begin to shake violently. Sora sat up in concern before he realized that he was laughing.

“You,” Riku wheezed in between his silent laughing fit, “Being  _ quiet? _ ”

Sora shoved at his shoulder while Riku, eyes watering, continued to wheeze and clutch at his stomach, but he let the flashlight slip out from his grip in the midst of his shoving. It clattered to the floor, where it proceeded to roll under the row of seats and fizzle out. Riku let out some combination of a groan and a whine as they were plunged into inky darkness. Sora expected him to utter something clever and soaked with sarcasm, but he only heard him breathing. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Sora said. He stood up and began to head back out through the aisle, but Riku said nothing, nor did he follow him. 

Sora shuffled back towards him, reaching through the dark until his fingers could grip the material of his windbreaker and tugged at his arm until he managed to jerk Riku’s hand away from his pocket and squeeze his own around it. He led the owner of that one very clammy hand out of the screening room with more caution than he cared to take, but Riku refused to move any faster than a couple tiny steps at a time, and Sora thought that this was very much how he imagined what leading a nervous horse over a rickety bridge might be like. When they returned to concessions he released his hand, and it went right back into hiding in the pocket of his jacket. For a moment Riku pursed his lips, staring at him through the fringe of his bangs with knitted brows and a vague look of expectancy. 

“I won’t tell Kairi you’re still afraid of the dark,” Sora said. 

“Oh, I’m sure she knows.”

He grinned sheepishly. Riku just shrugged.

 

They made their way to the nearest exit. It lay at the northernmost part of the mall, past the overpass which looked over the street. An old toy store, a retro diner, a soft pretzel kiosk--all of these lay along the way, and none of them had Sora ever seen in operation. There used to be mannequins dressed in a variety of awful clothing (one such mannequin happened to be wearing an white suit, a black shirt, and a green tie) lining the walkway. They stood in various, vaguely judgemental poses, occupying barren showrooms like some horrible version of IKEA. Sora always suspected that they were watching him. But now they were gone, and the windows to the street were boarded up.

Beyond another row of candy machines sat a tiny carousel. Its horses had faced quite a bit of wear and tear, both from the children who had once rode them and from the years of neglect by maintenance; their paint was chipping and their joints were red with rust. Sora pointed forcefully at the horses, bouncing on his heels and tugging at arm of Riku’s windbreaker. 

“You’re gonna break it,” Riku warned him.

Sora hopped on a horse anyway (a tiny brown one with roses in its hair) but he found that his knees knocked against the rear of the horse in front of him. Still, he grasped the pole with one hand and leaned away dramatically as he stuck his tongue out. Riku appeared to attempt a disapproving frown, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward, giving him a crooked and unflattering grin. His expression tickled him and he began to laugh, but it shook him from his grip on the pole and he fell backwards onto his shoulder. 

No teasing came from Riku. Sora glanced upward, tasting the blood from his busted lip. He caught the underside of Riku’s chin pointed somewhere further down the walkway.

“Hey, Sora,” he said. “Take a look at that.”

It was the JC Penny. Or, that’s what he assumed it was supposed to be, because what Sora saw looming at the very edge of Vallco Fashion Park was a deeply charred skeleton. Maybe he wasn’t looking at it right? He righted himself and sat up on his knees. No, it was still the burnt-out husk of a retail store. He suddenly became aware that the bitter smell of smoke and wet charcoal had been in his nostrils for a good while.

“What the fuck,” he said. 

“Wonder when this happened,” mumbled Riku.

“That explains the weird stench,” Sora replied. “It probably wasn’t that long ago. I bet Kairi would be able to tell.”

The exit was to its immediate right, but he couldn’t resist taking a better look at the disaster. He drew closer to it with caution until he’d reached the entrance where a line of structures he realized were the remains of detectors that had melted to the floor. Riku hovered just a few steps behind him pretending he wasn’t interested, but Sora caught him peering over his shoulder with raised eyebrows. He drew closer still, until he was tip-toeing into the rubble. 

Riku waved his arms in a crossing motion. “Get back here, idiot,” he called. “You said we could leave now!” 

“In a minute,” he replied as the sign for the makeup counter caught his eye and decided it was worth investigating. A groan echoed from the remains of the structure, somewhere above him.

Riku crossed his arms and tapped his foot, humming a melodyless tune. Sora ignored him and pushed the rubble around with his feet instead. There wasn’t anything terribly interesting, as most of it had been burnt to ashes, and what hadn’t turned to ash were unrecognizable charred lumps of… something. He wandered a bit further in, stepping over and in-between the wreckage. The groan came again.

“You think someone left the stove on?” He wondered aloud as he kicked away the metal frame of what he figured was either a clothing rack or a shopping cart. 

Riku hadn’t budged an inch from the entrance. He just stood there watching him with pursed lips, and couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to keep his arms crossed to run his fingers through his overgrown bangs. “We can discuss the details of whether or not a retail store would have a gas stove to leave on when you  _ get your bony ass back here. _ ” 

Sora glanced backwards and opened his mouth to retort with something clever—only he didn’t get that far, because a deafening cracking noise resounded above him, and the world began to turn in slow motion. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see it descending--a black mass, like the night sky--and it was falling on him. He watched Riku’s face shift from an expression of surprise to one of abject horror, saw him reaching out, thought he heard him call his name, but the blood was pounding too loud in his ears for him to hear.

_ Oh, this is it, _ Sora thought.  _ I’m really gonna die this time. _

He dove. It was the only thing he could do. 

He hit the floor with an electric shock stabbing at his forearms like bolts of lightning from Zeus himself, scrabbling at the ground with his fingernails to earn him any distance at all, wondering if this was the last time he was going to see Riku’s face, missing Kairi, missing his brother, scrabbling, scrabbling, scrabbling… 

There was an intense pressure to his spine, but nothing more. He looked up.

Riku was there. He looked sweaty and his hair disheveled, pushed away from his face and sticking to his neck. He was mouthing something. Sora swung his head over his shoulder. He was lying under a charred wooden beam. There was another beam that had fallen beside him, creating a miniscule amount of space between that beam and the ground--the space where he was trapped. He pushed against the floor with his palms, trying to squeeze his hips out of the wreckage, but it was no use. There was a sound that he began to hear over the pounding of blood. He heard it over and over.  _ What the hell was it?  _

It was Riku’s name. He realized suddenly that his throat was sore. 

“Hang on,” he heard Riku say. His voice sounded vague and far away. “I’m going to get help.”

“No!” 

He blinked.

“The rest might fall on me,” he rasped. His voice was getting tired. “I’m fine, I can feel my toes and everything. Just get me out!”

Riku hesitated. He looked toward Sora, then back at the entrance, and to Sora again before he leaned forward to grasp his hands. Slowly, he began to pull. But only a short while later Sora felt like his shoulders were in danger of dislocating, and the beam was still pressed firmly into his back.

“Stop, stop! It’s not working.” Frustration and hysteria began to rise in his chest. He thought he might cry. He watched Riku’s face fall, his sheepdog hair falling over his shoulder as he tilted his head. He let go.

Riku righted himself, furrowing his brows and planting his hands on his hips. Then he leaned forward again, gripping the underside of the beam with both hands. “Get ready, ‘cause when I say ‘go,’ I need you to wriggle outta there like the fastest snake on the goddamn planet,” he said.

Sora squawked. “Don’t, you’re gonna throw out your back!” 

He laughed dryly. “Fine, then.” With a grunt, he began to lift.

It was only a few seconds, but it felt like an achingly long time before Sora heard him nearly scream the word, red-faced and sweaty, as the pressure on his back lifted just enough for him to squeeze himself through in a mad scramble to freedom. Riku let the beam go, and it came crashing down inches from his feet. He stood up dazedly and adjusted his backpack. Riku was in the midst of taking some very deep breaths and rubbing at his arms, but seemed to otherwise be fine. Sora curled his fingers gingerly around Riku’s wrist and bolted. He heard him let out a noise of surprise as he dragged him along, but he soon fell into step beside him. They sprinted toward the exit and wordlessly tossed themselves over the cyclone fence and onto the sidewalk outside. They kept running. The adrenaline was still pumping in Sora’s veins, and he wanted to be where he couldn’t see the mall as soon as possible. 

That place happened to be a small park a few blocks away, where Sora tossed his backpack aside and threw himself onto his back at the top of a small, grassy hill. Riku sat down beside him with his legs crossed. The ground was still a little muddy from the rain, but neither of them cared. Sora stretched his arms as far as he possibly could as he stared up at the sky, watching the gaps in the clouds shifting, trying to see where the blue ended and the blackness began. He took a deep breath and began to laugh.

It was a little bit at first, just a quiet giggle. But it kept bubbling up in his chest and he couldn't stop. He saw Riku’s face twist in concern, but then his lips curled into a crooked grin and he began to laugh, too. Amid the cacophony Sora began to wheeze and clutch his stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks, watching the same happen to Riku beside him until they were both rolling around on the lawn, coughing and gasping for air. When he finally managed to take a full breath, he lay on his back again. 

Riku stared back down at him. His mouth turned downward. “I’m so mad at you,” he said. His voice cracked as he said it, but his expression remained stern. 

Sora looked up at his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m glad you’re here,” he replied. 

“Boy, so am I.” 

“I don’t mean just today—I mean in general. I’m glad you’re here,” he repeated. 

Riku opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to decide what he wanted to say and left it hanging open. He blinked, and a leftover tear began to trail slowly down his cheek. Without thinking about it, Sora reached up to wipe it away with his finger.

“I’m still mad at you.” But the curve of his lips softened a little anyway. He really had such a nice face, Sora thought. 

“Yeah, I know.”  

A silence settled softly between them, interrupted only by the breeze through the trees and the calling of crows within them. Riku leaned on his hands and let his head loll back against his shoulders as he stared at the clouds. There was a lot more cloud than sky, so Sora began to find the shapes in the gaps between them rather than in the clouds themselves. He spotted a dog, a vegetable knife, and the state of Minnesota before he became distracted by the folds in Riku’s windbreaker, and the space between the locks of his hair where he could see a part of his jawline. He wondered how long they could sit here before it got dark. Some kind of warmth had begun to wrap itself around his insides like a flannel blanket on a cold night, and it made his pain fade out to a barely noticeable brown noise.

“Hey,” mumbled Sora, but he realized he didn’t actually have anything to say. Riku tilted his head to look at him, shifting his weight to one arm and curling himself inward like a weeping willow. His hair fell over his shoulder and into Sora’s face, tickling his cheeks and making him snort and giggle. 

Sora reached up to tuck his waterfall of hair behind his ear. He felt his own hand hesitate as he trailed his fingers along the edge of his jawline. Their noses were terribly close. Riku really, really did have a nice face. His hand was still hovering behind his ear, and before he could really think about what he was doing, he cupped his palm around his cheek, curling stray strands of his hair around his fingers. Sora heard him suck in his breath, saw him close his eyes for just a moment.

“S-sorry,” Sora blurted, retrieving the offending hand and clutching it against his chest with the other. He squeezed himself out from Riku’s shadow and sat upright, the warm fog dissipating from his limbs. He noticed suddenly that his underarms were sweaty. 

This time, the silence was crushing. The pain worked its way back into Sora’s spine, and the breeze through the fabric of his clothes. It was hard to breathe, as if something were squeezing the air out of his chest, playing his lungs like an accordion.

“Could you…” Riku mumbled suddenly after what felt like an achingly long time, his chin buried between his knees and his eyes hidden under his bangs. “Could you do that again?” 

It caught Sora off guard. He had been in the middle of planning how he was going to move out of the house and go live by himself in Wyoming or somewhere equally as devoid of people before being startled out of his train of thought. Riku’s shoulders shot up to his ears and he was curling in on himself again. Where it was not under the shadow of his hair, Sora could see his face turning pink. The knot in his chest seemed to come undone all at once and he was… tickled. It bubbled up inside him like foam from a soda can that had been rolling around on the floor of a car for ages, overwhelming everything else, and he felt himself break into a stupid wide grin that he had to bite his lip to hide. 

He reached out with both hands now. Riku leaned closer, eyes half-lidded, letting him run his fingers through his hair and push his bangs away from his face. His face was warm--hot, even. Sora brought his palms against his cheeks and kept them there. 

“I’m sorry,” Riku began in a low voice, “For letting you think I was upset with you the other day. I wasn’t.” 

“I thought you hated that. You always make a face when Kairi does it.” 

“I never hated it.” 

Sora blinked. He let his hands fall from Riku’s chin and onto his lap. 

“I’m just—“ His bangs had fallen back over his eyes. Exasperated, he pushed them away with one hand. “Look, I nearly saw you get squashed like a bug today. You were that close to beating your record for almost dying.”

Sora frowned. “Gee. Thanks for reminding me.” 

“I want you to know that I never hated it, Sora, not once.” Against his flushed face, Riku’s eyes were strikingly blue.

Perhaps it was the leftover adrenaline turning his stomach, making it flip and flop like it were on a trampoline with a million bees and a billion butterflies. He wanted to hold that face again. He wanted—

“I want something for almost dying,” he said. 

“I’m already making you a chocolate cake.” 

“I want something else.” 

“You spoiled asshole.” He squinted and furrowed his brows. Then he sighed. “Tell me.” 

“I want you to kiss me.”

Riku’s eyes widened. Then a shadow crossed his face and made it unreadable; for a beat, Sora was terrified he’d misstepped, that he thought he was only teasing. 

“I didn’t ask the first time; I’m asking you now.”  _ Okay?  _ He mouthed the last word, balling his fists and pressing his fingernails into the meat of his palms as he was met with more silence.

Then Riku gave him a slow nod, his lips curling into a shy smile. His shoulders fell and he made a sound that wasn’t quite a sigh. Sora threw his arms around his neck, buried his hands in his hair, and drew him close until their foreheads met. For a moment there was only his heart beating in his throat and the wind through the trees. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought about what Kairi had said—about the sky being blue, about the way he thought things were supposed to be. He wasn’t sure he really understood what she meant, but he knew that today the sky was grey. It was going to change in an hour, and it was going to keep changing until he died, and then it was going to keep changing long after that. He was okay with it. He liked it better that way. 

Riku closed the gap. Their noses bumped together before their lips met, chapped and overlapping awkwardly with a vague taste of chapstick. His hair tickled Sora’s cheeks and he could smell oranges on his breath. 

“That was terrible,” Riku mumbled when he pulled away. 

Sora’s heart sank for a horrible, guilty moment. 

He took a breath. “Let me try again.”

It was a little better, a little gentler, a little less painful this time, until Sora’s fingers got caught in his hair and Riku grabbed at the lapels of his jacket when he swayed to one side as he lost his balance trying to free his hands from his tangled hair. Sora grinned, and then he began to laugh. He felt Riku smiling against his lips, and the smile grew wider until he started to laugh, too. Their teeth clacked together, but they kept laughing until Sora yelped and pulled away.

“Your lip--” stuttered Riku.

Sora poked at his busted lip gingerly; it stung, and there was blood on his finger when it came away. He glanced from his hand to Riku. “There’s blood on your face,” he informed him, licking his thumb and rubbing it from his jaw. 

“There’s blood on  _ your _ face, you walnut.” Riku rolled up the sleeve of his windbreaker and dabbed at his lip with the edge of the sweater he was wearing underneath. 

Sora thought about kissing him back right now despite his stinging lip that wouldn’t quit bleeding, until he felt a raindrop land on the tip of his nose. He blinked and another landed on his forehead, and then his cheek, and then on his eyelid. Sure enough the sky was changing, darkening and opening up above them. Laughing, they leapt to their feet as the wind rose and what began as a gentle pattering quickly became a steady downpour, but they stood there on the hill for a little while longer letting the rain soak their hair and muddy their shoes.

“For the record,” Riku said as they shuffled through the wet grass holding their arms uselessly over their heads, breathless and and aching from laughter, a little bloodier than they’d like, “I’m glad you’re here, too.”

  
  
  
  


He was too tired to protest when Kairi took one look at his lip and decided that he needed at least one stitch, and he was too tired to whine or cry when she gathered Riku and Roxas around him and said, “Watch close, ‘cause I’m gonna give you guys a sewing lesson,” before stitching him back together over the kitchen sink. As he gripped Riku’s hand and squeezed his eyes shut while she worked, he was struck by a sense of deja vu. It was over faster than he’d thought, and though it didn’t hurt any less, being older made it easier to bear. 

He slept on the couch until the ibuprofen wore off and the dull ache returned to a sharp pain. It was dark outside when he woke, and he was alone except for Roxas, who was sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal and reading a book with his headphones on. Sora’s attempt to remove himself from the couch was a belly flop onto the floor before his legs would allow him to stand up and wobble his way into the kitchen. He sat down in the chair next to Roxas.

“I’m still mad at you,” Roxas informed him without looking up from his book or taking off his headphones.

“I know,” Sora replied. He rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows and held out his forearms. It was all a mess of scrapes and scratches, most of them red, some turning purple, and every single one of them stung. “Check it out—this happened today.”

Roxas slid his headphones down to his neck, but gave him no more than an apathetic glance.

“I knew your hand was an accident.” Sora kept talking anyway. “I don’t know why I got so angry.”

Roxas finally set his book aside and looked him in the face. It was a thoroughly confused look. “I think the fact that it sounds like you’re apologizing to me right now scares me more than anything that’s happened in the last few months,” he said. “Where’s the body?” 

“In the tub.” 

“Sora--”

“I’m serious, Rox. When you said you’d stop, I held onto that for a really long time.” Sora felt himself running out of breath. “I knew you wouldn’t break a promise that  _ you _ made. I just--I think I’m just stressed out.”

Roxas’ face twisted into a crooked smile. “Well, I punched you first, so I think we’re even.” He held out his hand. The wound was still swollen and irritated; the stitches were sloppy and the skin was raised and red. It was the only bright mark on his arms among the mess of silver scars visible when he rolled up his sleeves. Then, slowly, he twisted his wrist around to expose the back of his hand and unfurled his middle finger. 

Sora grinned. His lip stung and his whole body ached, but he felt like he could finally ignore it. It didn’t really matter anymore. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coyotes -- Modest Mouse
> 
> Uhh you know that category of soriku fanart that's just them holding each other's faces? Yeah
> 
> At 65k words in most of you have probably gotten what you came for in this one. Party's over, everyone go home. Just kidding I've hardly even gotten to the parts I've been waiting to write since the beginning


End file.
